GRUDGE WHO GRUDGE- A STORY OF ANNE BOLEYN
by xRiSEEx
Summary: The second installation of my historical fiction that follows Queen Anne Boleyn; second wife of King Henry VIII, and mother of Queen Elizabeth I. I love the real history, but this is really not historically accurate at all; it was inspired by fictional works. I often make little literary nods to authors such as Philippa Gregory. But it's still a good read, I swear!
1. Chapter 1: A Long Wait

**CHAPTER 1: A LONG WAIT**

Anne sat with her husband the King, grim-faced as the news was delivered that the witch Jane Seymour had been dispatched from this world. Anne piously crossed herself as the messenger spoke. "It was my wish that she would not suffer", she said somberly. "Was Mistress Seymour given the pouch of gunpowder as I asked?". The messenger turned to his Queen. "Yes, Your Majesty. I imagine she felt very little". Anne nodded, satisfied with his response and turned her attention to Henry. He sat very still and flinty faced, as if he were brooding on something. Then finally he spoke. "So, it is done then". The messenger bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty, it is done". King Henry nodded and waved the messenger away. He snapped his fingers for his page. "I will not dine publicly today. I will take my dinner in the Queen's rooms, if she wishes it". Anne smiled coyly up at him. "It is always a pleasure to have Your Grace in my company. I shall be honored to serve your dinner in my rooms, my love". Henry smiled down at his wife and tenderly caressed her ever slightly rounding belly. Everything he had done, had been to secure the safety of his son and so secure the peace of England.

Jane Seymour, who had seemed so sweet and purely innocent, had been a witch, and an enchantress, and she had been working her dark magic on him to entice him. Henry thought of the long line of mistresses he had had in his life. She had not been beautiful like Bessie Blount, nor amorous like Mary Boleyn, nor enchanting like Madge Shelton, nor witty like Lizzie Bryan. In fact, she was nothing like any of the appealing, colorful beauties that had shared his bed. Undoubtedly Jane had been nowhere near as alluring, charming, intelligent, and interesting as his own wife, Anne. Surely it was dark magic that caused him to love her. He had never suffered a dull woman! Even Katherine of Aragon had shone with a golden beauty in her youth. Katherine always had read the latest books, and was a political and military genius, thanks to her upbringing under her mother the Queen Militant, Isabella of Spain. Of course, he had to be right in sentencing Jane to death. She was tried and found guilty and it had been wrong of him to allow her to remain for so long. Now, everything was set to rights; exactly as it should be.

The King had cancelled the summer progress in order to let his Queen rest as her belly grew large with child. But there had been other reasons. There were disturbing reports of uprisings in the North of England regarding the changes that had come after the break with the Roman Catholic Church. Henry had set about dissolving many of the monasteries in his reformation of the Church of England. He would not have the court travel in a country of unrest, and thus endanger the lives of his Queen and unborn son. Anne, while a champion of reform, was now always at odds with her once great friend Thomas Cromwell. She complained that he was doing nothing more than stripping the Roman Catholic Church of its wealth, not reforming the structure, and therefore not participating in a godly work. Wearied by her constant complaints and arguments, and desperate that she would not distress herself and thus endanger the babe, Henry promised that he would go no further until she was out of childbed to advise him. Contented with this, Anne said no more on the subject. On top of the unrest in the country, there was unrest in the royal household itself. In July, it became known that Anne's own step uncle, Thomas Howard, had secretly been engaged to Margaret Douglas, the King's own niece through his sister Margaret, the Dowager Queen of Scots.

Henry had been livid. As she was a half Tudor, Lady Margaret had a claim to the English throne. The Howards were the Queen's maternal family, and although Anne's step uncle had not inherited the Dukedom of Norfolk as Anne's uncle- also named Thomas Howard- had, it was still too close for comfort. It did not escape him that as Catholics, Margaret and Thomas Howard could be a center for treasonous rebellion. Anne had been horrified that her step uncle could engage in something so foolish, especially when Anne's place had been so recently uncertain. She might be carrying the royal son that could secure the English throne, but she had not yet birthed him! Of course Henry would feel threatened! In a rage, the King had sent both his niece and Anne's step uncle to the Tower, and passed an Act of Attainder against him, allowing him to be executed without trial. Accompanying this was a new law that forbade any of the potential heirs to the English throne in the realm to marry without his express permission and labeled such an offense as treason. Anne's uncle, Thomas Howard the Duke of Norfolk, had come before her to ask her to intercede for his half-brother. Anne might have been impulsive once too; she had secretly married the man she loved once, to the great displeasure of her family, but he had only been an Earl! Really, her step-uncle should have known better than to secretly marry a royal lady without permission!

Still, he was her kin, and so she went to the King, removed her headdress, and went down on her knees to beg clemency for her step uncle. "Henry", she whispered, making her voice as full of emotion as she could. "I cannot be so distressed, while I am carrying our son", she cooed. "Please, if not for my sake, spare him for the sake of our child". That was her trump card, she knew. She watched his face soften with concern for her. He sighed deeply. "You know that I can deny you nothing. Very well. I will commute his sentence to lifetime imprisonment. It is all I can do". Anne bowed her head to him. Certainly, she felt that her step uncle had been very wrong to court the Lady Margaret in the first place, let alone go ahead and form a betrothal with her. After a few weeks, the Warden of the Tower wrote to Henry to alert him that his niece was terribly ill. Mercifully, Henry had allowed her to be confined to an apartment in Syon Abbey. It was all just an extra trouble Anne didn't need at the time, but by the end of August, things began to return to some semblance of normalcy, and Anne could relax in her pregnancy.

Anne's sister Mary had also been with child. They sat together for a good portion of the day knitting baby clothes and discussing the educational regiments of Princess Elizabeth, and of Katherine and Henry, Mary's two children. Katherine was a maid-of-honor to Anne, and sometimes she sat with them and massaged their swelling feet or read to them in French. The time reminded Anne of her and Mary's girlhood in France. They giggled and gossiped and played games together. Their greatest pleasure this summer was to sit in Anne's rooms at night teasing the cooks by ordering strange dishes, like buttered plums, or hunks of beef drenched in milk, claiming they were fancies brought on by pregnancy. Henry was also tender to Anne, often breaking his fast with her and sitting with her before going out hunting. As his injured leg was worsening, he went out hunting less and less, and was more often found reading to Anne, playing cards, or singing with her. By now, news of Anne's final gift of charity to the Seymour witch, as the late Jane Seymour was now being called, had spread. While the common people had never much liked Anne due to Katherine of Aragon's popularity, everyone was astounded with how the Queen could be so generous as to offer a slight reprieve to a witch who had attempted to lure the King away from her with evil sorcery, not to mention one who had caused her to lose a baby.

In mid-October Anne had to begin her confinement, and so the court moved to Hampton Court Palace. She was happy to go and lock herself away in peace, as the news that her step uncle had died in the Tower had come only days before. Tradition dictated that noble and royal ladies were to retire from court life about a month before the expected birth. This was to give them extra rest to build the strength they would need for the travail of childbirth. The rooms were darkened so that the lady would not be disturbed by light. Heavy tapestries depicting relaxing, or biblical scenes were hung up for her comfort and edification. No man was allowed to enter the confinement; not even priests, doctors, or the expectant father. The King commanded an elaborate dinner in Anne's honor to mark her entry into confinement. After dinner, the entire court escorted her to the confinement chamber. Henry had spared no cost in making sure that she had every comfort and luxury she might desire while within. He kissed her heartily in front of everyone and she curtsied to him and came up smiling. "When next we meet, I hope to introduce Your Majesty to the Prince of Wales", she whispered lowly to him. Henry shook his head and kissed her again. "We shall meet long before that! I will come to visit you every day. Godspeed sweetheart!".

Anne's confinement chambers were luxuriously furnished, but very stuffy. "Open the window", Anne commanded once she was comfortably in the bed. One of the midwives hesitated. "Your Grace, confinement is supposed to be…well, confinement". Anne fixed a sharp look on her. "I know. This is not my first confinement. But it is too stifling in here with the windows closed and the fires blazing. The baby and I will both suffocate to death within a day, and His Majesty will not thank you for it". The midwife sighed and opened the windows a crack. "A little wider", said Anne. "Your Grace!", exclaimed the midwife, scandalized. "Do it", said Anne flatly. "I command it". The midwife had to acquiesce once again. Anne nodded when the window was opened sufficiently for her liking. Mary giggled as the midwife flounced off to the other side of the room to fold some sheets. "It's such an outdated thing, isn't it Anne? What babe would suffer from fresh air? My two children have never caught so much as a chill in the open air at Hever Castle". Anne shook her head. "It really is quite ridiculous".

During the second week of Anne's confinement, Lady Mary (formerly Princess Mary), the King's daughter from his invalid first marriage, came to attend Anne. Naturally, that made Anne irritable. "I do not see why she has to be here", Anne whispered fiercely to her sister. "She is neither a married woman nor a mother! And what is worse, I can feel her silently praying for me to miscarry or barring that, give birth to another girl". Mary laughed. "Who cares what she prays for? She has lost, and God bless her, her mother the Princess Dowager is dead". Anne was still scowling. "Oh Nan! Do fix your face! It is better that she is here. It is a sign of respect…even if the King has commanded she attended you. You have nothing to fear from her". "I have everything to fear from her!", Anne retorted, as quick as a viper. "From her and everyone who still supports her". "They will have nothing once you give birth to the King's son", said Mary reasonably. Anne's face blanched a little. Mary's brow creased in concern. "Anne, are you alright? You're not having any pains, are you?". Anne shook her head, but just barely. Her eyes stared ahead of her, seeing nothing.

"Oh Mary, what if it is not a son?", she asked in such a tiny whisper, her lips barely moved. "What if it's another girl?". "Don't think like that Anne", said Mary soothingly. "Of course you'll have a boy. You will". Anne gave a mirthless snort of laughter. "Don't tell me you've begun to believe the old crone we hired to tell the King extravagant stories to keep my arse on the throne of England?". Mary smirked. "Of course not. I'm not so much of a fool! But I think you will be lucky this time". Anne shrugged. "And it is a pattern with the Howard women anyway", said Mary. "Look at our Lady Mother, she had me first, then George. And I had my Katherine first before I bore Henry". This did not make Anne feel as heartened as Mary intended her to be, as she recalled that her mother had had miscarriages in between Mary's birth and George's. Apparently sensing this, Mary tutted. "Oh Anne, really. You've already had your share of miscarriages too. Trust me, you will be just like our Lady Mother. All of us Howard women bear a girl first. You have had Elizabeth, you have had some tragedies in between, and now you will bear a son". "Pray God it is so", said Anne fervently. "Pray God it is so".


	2. Chapter 2: Twelve Hours

**CHAPTER 2: TWELVE HOURS**

The weeks went by slowly in Anne's confinement chamber. She read poetry and excerpts from the Bible with the few ladies she had selected to attend her. The Lady Mary made the latter uncomfortable for some of the ladies however, with her blatant disapproval of their use of an English Bible. Sometimes Anne sung with her ladies or played cards. Her sister-in-law Jane frequented her confinement chamber to deliver the court gossip. She reported ironically that after his morning visits to the confinement chamber, the King was always with his gentlemen. He had dined publicly every day, and after his evening visits, he supped publicly as well. Anne knew that to mean that her husband had not taken a lover while she was away. That made her feel heartened. She would not have to contend with a rival while she was indisposed. If she had a son, she might not have to deal with a rival for a long time, if ever. If she conceived within a year of this birth and was delivered of another son, she would probably never have a true rival ever again.

In the early afternoon on November 30th, Anne's pains had begun. The confinement room was in uproar, with maids fetching rags, and midwives shouting orders, and ladies readying the birthing ale. Anne was delirious with the familiar and yet entirely shocking pain. One of her ladies- Anne could not tell which, as her eyes were hazy- shoved a crucifix into her hand. Another laid a cool, lavender scented rag on her forehead. "It's alright, Your Grace". That was Nan Parr's voice. "Did anyone go to alert the King?", Anne heard her mother's distant voice ask. "No, I'll go and tell him that the Queen is in labor now", said Catherine Brandon's voice. Anne heard her rise and felt the air from her skirts swishing as she hurried out. She smelled her sister's perfume come closer and then felt Mary grab her hand. "Okay now Anne. You can do this". Anne nodded, disoriented. It was hard to think of anything but the griping pain in her groin.

Hours passed, and the baby still had not come. Anne remembered feeling as if days were passing rather than hours when she had been in childbed with Elizabeth. It was the same now. The pains had begun to come faster and sharper and Anne cried out. "Is there anything I can do for you?", Meg Wyatt asked her. "If you could do **this** for me, I'd be quite obliged!", Anne replied, straining. Meg laughed. "Oh, Your Grace!". She turned to Mary. "Imagine bringing wit with you to childbed!". Mary laughed too. "Only Anne would!". "I am so pleased to be a source of humor for you ladies!", Anne cried as a contraction hit her. She moaned in pain. "Remind me to have you both committed to the Tower when this is all over!". All of Anne's ladies were laughing now. "Alright, alright", said the head midwife. "You're all disturbing Her Majesty, and she needs to focus". The ladies settled down and set about performing other tasks for the midwives.

Close to midnight, Anne gave a loud cry and shuddered with pain. "Ohhhh! _Dieu aide moi!_ The baby! The baby is coming now!". The midwives were on their feet. One of them thrust the crucifix back in to Anne's hand while another held a thick silk rope in front of Anne's face for her to bite down on. The head midwife was down by Anne's ankles, lifting her shift to expose her bare legs and cunny. Even through her pain, Anne was irritated with the indecency of it all. That her privates should be on display for all to see like some bawdy house slut! If it were not to bring a child in to the world, Anne thought she would never suffer such an ignoble process as childbed, especially not with all the dangers it brought. The head midwife smiled as Anne shrieked when another contraction hit, and Anne had an overwhelming urge to jump up and slap her! Not that she was physically capable of it just then. "Alright, Your Grace", said the midwife soothingly. "Time to push". Anne howled in pain as she pushed, every now and then adding some colorful French vocabulary. "Not long now, Your Grace", said the midwife. "C'mon, push!". Anne, using all of her strength, delivered a final, powerful push, in a rush of blood and inconceivable pain.

The room was filled with the sound of a loud wail and Anne slumped over in the bed, exhausted. The midwives caught the babe up in immaculate white sheets. Anne looked up at them blankly. This was the moment of truth. Bouncing the baby gently, the head midwife tweaked the blanket down a little to examine the privates. She turned to Anne and smiled. "A boy, Your Majesty. A healthy, lusty son". Anne felt tears flowing out of her eyes. _A boy! Mon Dieu! I am safe!_ All of her ladies congratulated her as the midwives washed the new little Prince in the golden basin that had been provided. Not far from Anne's bed was the royal cradle of England, already made up with satin sheets trimmed with ermine and gold thread. The swaddling clothes that her sister Mary had been knitting were set to the side, ready to wrap the baby up once he was cleaned. "Congratulations, Your Grace", the Lady Mary mumbled. It was clear that she was being quite insincere, since Anne's son put paid any aspirations Mary had of the throne. Anne turned wearily and looked at her as if she were seeing her for the first time.

This was nothing but a motherless girl whose future was no less than uncertain. Everything she had known had been turned upside down. Now that Anne had borne a son, any hopes Lady Mary held of the throne were shattered. But, Anne could still turn that to her advantage. Now that she was all but untouchable, she would reach out and make friends and alliances. She had everything to play for just now. Every royal house in Europe would seek to marry their daughters to her son. Anne could win over Lady Mary's supporters by befriending her now that she was at her strongest. It would be so much more powerful a statement now that she had a Prince. Surely, she would endear herself to them for acting in kindness now that she had the upper hand. "Well my dear, shall I go to the King to tell him he has a son?", asked the Countess of Wiltshire, Elizabeth Boleyn. Anne waved her hand to indicate that her answer was no. Anne's mother was stunned. "I think that it should be the Lady Mary", said Anne, turning to her stepdaughter. Lady Mary looked just as stunned as Anne's mother had. Undoubtedly, Anne's giving birth to a son was not her idea of good news. However, it was a tradition that someone would have the honor of informing the King; usually a close family member or a court favorite. Taken aback, Lady Mary performed a small curtsey. "I shall go to His Majesty at once".

Minutes later the King burst into the room, as loud and boisterous as ever. The midwives begged him to be quieter, but he could barely contain his joy. He rushed over to Anne who was now laying propped up in the bed, holding their son. She had had her ladies brush out her hair and clean her face so that she looked as if childbed had been nothing but a minor discomfort. Her ladies curtsied and fluttered away to give the royal couple some privacy. Henry kissed Anne full on the lips. "My love! Oh my love! The best news!". Anne held the tiny sniffling bundle up for him to see. Henry took the babe in his arms and peered at his face. "We'll call him Henry", he said lovingly staring down at his infant son. Anne shook her head. "And have him pressured for all his life to live up to your name, 'Great Harry'?", Anne laughed, citing the loving nickname his people had given him. "He will be a King for peace; let us name him Edward instead, for St. Edward the Confessor". Henry laughed. "Edward then. Prince Edward".


	3. Chapter 3: Princess Mary

CHAPTER 3: PRINCESS MARY

Henry had stayed with Anne for more than an hour, admiring the sleeping baby Prince. "Isn't he just perfect?", Anne whispered, in awe. The realization had finally set in that she had birthed her first son, not just a Prince. She nuzzled at his soft, warm head, on his little patch of deep bronze curls. "We can have your brother for godfather, if you would like", Henry smiled at her. "Anyone you desire, since you have given me what I desired above all other things". Anne smiled back at him but waved the idea away. "Your Majesty, you have already honored my brother with creating him as a Knight of the Order of the Garter! You will swell his head to at least twice its size, which is already too large! Nay, my Lord. I was thinking of Charles Brandon, my Lord of Suffolk". Henry was taken aback. To be sure, Charles was his greatest friend, but he was certain his friend was no great favorite of Anne's. "I would trust him with the care of our son for the great love that he bears towards you", Anne said, by way of explanation.

Henry beamed at her. "As you wish my love. And who else will you have?". Anne tilted her head thoughtfully. "Archbishop Cranmer of course, and my Uncle Howard, and…", she gave him a quizzical look as she paused. "Might I also have the Lady Mary as godmother?". Henry looked at Anne questioningly. "You want the Lady Mary, my daughter, to be godmother to our son?". "I do", said Anne with all the sincerity she could muster. "All of this has been quite hard on her, and although your marriage to the Dowager Princess was invalid, it was made in good faith. She is still the daughter of a King and of a Princess of the blood royal". Henry bent down to kiss Anne's fingers, the top of his head gently touching the sleeping Prince. "You are very good, my love. It shall be as you say. The Duke of Suffolk, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Duke of Norfolk, and the Lady Mary will be the godparents of Edward, the Prince of Wales".

The King had ordered a lavish christening for Prince Edward three days after he was born that far surpassed any that England had seen to the date. The citizens of London roasted meat over fires in the streets and got drunk on the free wine that had flowed in the fountains to celebrate the birth of a Prince. There was a grand procession of Lords and Ladies, Privy Councilors, bishops, priests, and gentry to the Chapel Royal at Hampton Court Palace to celebrate the Prince's christening. The very evening the Prince was born, Princess Elizabeth had been summoned from Hatfield at Queen Anne's command to be a part of the ceremony. Even though she was little more than 4 years old, she was to have the honor of carrying her little brother to the ornate, golden baptismal font with the aid of their Uncle George, Anne's brother. Anne and the King would of course, as tradition dictated, not be present. Having just given birth, Anne was not yet free of the sin of childbirth. Normally, she would have to wait six weeks to be churched before she could return to court, but the King, as Supreme Head of the Church of England, decreed that she should be churched after just two weeks, so she could return to court before Christmas.

Frances Brandon, the Marchioness of Dorset, who was also the King's niece, held the golden canopy of estate over the Prince, assisted by Elizabeth Boleyn, Countess of Wiltshire- the Prince's grandmother. After them came Lady Mary and the other godparents, and behind them the rest of the court. After the baptism rites were complete, Thomas Cranmer as both Archbishop and godfather, proclaimed the babe Edward, Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, and Earl of Chester. As they processed out of the chapel, church bells rung all throughout the city. Anne could hear it in her darkened confinement room and felt like laughing aloud. Those bells were tolling the very melody of her triumph! Soon, all of the monarchs in Europe would be sending their well wishes and gifts to her and her son. They would have to acknowledge her as Queen. What else but God's favor could bless Anne and Henry's marriage with a son, where he had denied one in Henry's marriage to Katherine? Granted, she had come by this son in less than...traditional means, but if she had not God's favor, the child would surely have been a girl, or a stillborn, or perhaps she would have miscarried.

"Are you well today, sweetheart?", Henry asked as he strode into the room, a broad grin on his face. Anne turned her head and smiled; that slow seductive turn of the head and sensual smile that always made men at court catch their breath. Henry marveled how even after Anne had given birth not but three days ago, she still had a magnetic allure that made him long for her. "I am well, my Lord, praying that Your Majesty is the same". Henry nodded. "How could I not be well? We have a son! A strong, healthy son!". Anne smiled at his exuberance. "I am just happy to have pleased you, while also serving England". Henry brought Anne's fingertips to his lips and kissed them. "You are a jewel my love. I shall have your father created Duke of Wiltshire and I will have William Stafford made a Baron in time for the birth of his child". Anne was delighted. Her sister Mary had foolishly decided to marry without permission just two years ago, and worse: she had married far beneath her. The King had been very displeased with Mary, and so had Anne. As sister to the Queen of England and a widow, Mary would have been a powerful pawn in creating political alliances.

Anne and Henry had actually been discussing a possible marriage between Mary and Charles, Duke of Orleans, the youngest son of King Francois of France, when they found out what Mary had done. Henry had forgiven Mary in due course and had also forgiven her new husband William Stafford, who was currently one of his gentlemen ushers and a knight. Now, he would be Baron…whatever he chose as his title's name. Anne leaned over and kissed her husband, although her stomach and groin were still in pain. "Your Majesty is generous", she intoned sweetly. "I truly am 'La Plus Heureuse' in every way", said Anne, citing her French motto of "The Most Happy". Henry grinned at her. "Might I…ask for a favor, my Lord?", Anne asked tentatively. Henry laughed. "My love, I would grant you nearly anything. Half of England if you wish it! I am your very slave!". Anne gave him a small smile. "I was wondering…might we call the Lady Mary 'Princess' again?". Henry frowned slightly now. "My marriage to her mother was invalid, Anne, you know that. She cannot be called Princess". Anne would normally have passionately argued her point, but she remembered how Henry had admired Jane for her calm subservience. "Of course, Sir, you are right. But it hardly seems fair to her. It was no fault of hers that the marriage was illegitimate. Even so, she is your daughter and she is the daughter of a Spanish Infanta". Henry was still frowning slightly, but he was listening.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty", said Anne, grudging the self-efficacy in her voice, "But you are Head of the Church in England. You can choose what is right, and who may and may not be called by a royal title. It is more advantageous to us to have her as a Princess anyway. We can form no marriage alliances through her if she is a bastard". Henry's frown was replaced with a look of quiet thoughtfulness. Anne decided to take the plunge and make her point. "If you can create Henry Fitzroy as Duke of Richmond, surely the daughter that was born in good faith to two royal parents can hold a title as well?". Henry's gaze went to Anne's face. It was a touchy subject for her to broach with him, and she knew it. Still, Henry could not help but consider her good sense. Mary was of no use to him as a bastard, and the entire point of even siring a girl was to marry her off to create alliances. "You may be right", said Henry carefully. "And surely, it will please most of Christendom to hear that Mary has been restored". "If it is your wish, Sire", said Anne deferentially. "It was merely a thought that had come to my mind. You alone have the wisdom and God-given authority to make it so".

Henry rubbed his chin as he thought and began nodding. "Yes…", he finally said slowly. "Yes, you may be right, Anne. I cannot marry her to suit the needs of the country if she is considered base-born. She is the daughter of a Princess of Spain and a King of England. Of course, she must be called Princess! What else can she be called? You are quite right, sweetheart". He smiled at Anne. "I had not known you had a tenderness for Mary". "I had not known I had either", said Anne. She looked slightly ashamed as she looked down at her fingers and looked back up at him- she knew it was utterly endearing. In truth, she did feel some shame in the way she had treated Mary. "Nan, I know that it was hard for you", said Henry. "It was hard for me too. I had to deal harshly with her. I am a King; I cannot allow anyone to defy me, not even my own daughter. But I know that for you, she was a reminder of the people that were supporting Katherine, God rest her soul. She made you feel ill at ease.". Anne nodded. "Now that I have a son who will be King of England one day, I have been able to see her for who and what she truly is: not an enemy, but my stepdaughter, and the daughter of two great royal houses". It made Henry's heart overflow with love for Anne to see her sweetness in a way he never had before. "If it please you my Lord, I think I should like to have our daughters Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary at court for the Christmas feast". Henry brightened at the idea of his family celebrating the twelve days of Christmas together. "Of course sweeting. I should like that as well".

Later in the afternoon, after all of the christening celebrations were ended, Lady Mary returned to Anne's confinement chamber to wait upon her. When she arrived, Anne dismissed her other ladies so that she could speak to her privately. Mary, was naturally taken aback. It was not often that she was given the honor of a private word with Anne, not that she ever wanted the honor, nor that she even thought of it as an honor. Mary wordlessly arched an eyebrow at the Queen. Anne smiled and beckoned her over. The wet nurse had just fed the tiny Prince and he was snoozing comfortably in Anne's arms. Mary dipped a small curtsey. "I must thank Your Majesty once again for the honor of being named godmother to the Prince. My father the King says I have you to thank for it". Anne waved her hand as if to dismiss the idea. "I could think of no better and no more worthy a person". Mary was immediately on her guard at the kindness that Anne was showing her. Sensing this, Anne laughed; a delicate, charming laugh, like tinkling bells. A courtier's laugh. She gestured that Mary should sit on the big bed of estate with her.

Mary sat cautiously and smoothed her skirts. After adjusting the baby in her arms, Anne took Mary's hands in hers. Mary had nearly fallen off the bed in shock. It was the most intimate gesture that had ever been between them. In fact, the most that had ever been between them was a silent loathing of one another, and a tense courtesy when in the company of the King. Mary had even been forced to wait on Elizabeth like a servant- as if she herself was not a Princess of the blood! "Mary", began Anne in a sweet, soothing voice. "I am so sorry for the troubles and pain I have caused you". Mary's jaw had almost dropped. "I know I have not treated you as I should. I have long treated you as an enemy because of the great love the people bore for you and the Princess Dowager". Mary winced slightly at the use of the title her mother had only held after the death of her first husband, Prince Arthur. Katherine of Aragon was a Queen and there was no power on Earth that would ever convince Mary that her mother had not ceased being a Princess Dowager the day she and the King were **lawfully** married. It gnawed at her soul to even have Anne mention her sainted mother at all when she had been the indirect cause of her death! "I…I do not know what to say, Your Grace", said Mary carefully. Indeed, she did not. How could she ever accept her apology?! Surely it was a ploy of some sort.

"Mary, I know that I cannot undo the wrongs I have done to you and your mother, whom I know you loved dearly. I know I can hardly ask to beg your pardon…". Mary looked up and was surprised to find tears glistening on Anne's cheeks. "I was cruel because I was young and afraid. And then I was older and afraid. I realize now that I should not have been unkind to you". Anne daintily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know you will see me as a usurper of sorts, full of sinful ambition, but I swear to you that I truly believe the King and your mother the Princess Dowager were unlawfully wed. It is the only reason I accepted the King's proposal. How could I so endanger my immortal soul by supporting bigamy? Your mother was married to the King's brother Prince Arthur, and the scriptures say that it is a sin for a man to lay with the wife of his dead brother". "They had a dispensation from His Holiness the Pope!", cried Mary, unable to curb her outburst. Anne nodded and disregarded the outburst. "Ah, yes, but why get a dispensation for what is scripturally allowed?". Mary brooded silently. "And who is the Pope but a man?", asked Anne, continuing. "No man should be able to supersede what has been written. Only one man has ever done such a thing, and that is Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Surely you cannot think the Pope, a man of earth, is on the same ground as Our Lord?". "The Pope is the heir of St. Peter, an apostle whom Jesus himself appointed!", said Mary staunchly.

Anne nodded casually. "Yes, an apostle, who denied Our Lord three times, because he was not free from the sins of mortal men. Now again, you cannot believe a mortal man is on the same level as Jesus?". Mary frowned. She had no intention of arguing religious rhetoric with Anne Boleyn, but Anne was looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Of course not, Your Grace. The Pope is not above Jesus Christ". Anne nodded and then sighed as if she were weary. She bounced her baby gently and he nuzzled in her bosom. "Mary, I did not want to argue religion with you. But see! You must see that God has smiled upon my marriage to the King. We have a strong, healthy, Prince of Wales". Mary tactfully did not mention that her mother too had born sons, one of which died after only two months. But, little Edward was her brother after all, as well as her godson, and she would never utter such words, nor wish such a fate upon him. "I have spoken with His Majesty", said Anne leading into the point of her discussion with Mary. "And I have expressed that it is my wish that you are restored to the title of Princess". Now Mary's jaw did drop. "What?", she asked, stupidly. "What did you say?".

Anne smiled at her. "I have expressed my wish to the King that you be called Princess Mary once more instead of Lady Mary. Surely if he can create Bessie Blount's bastard as Duke of Richmond, the very title he himself held as a child, you who are the daughter of a Princess of Spain and a King of England should be referred to as 'Princess'! Even if the marriage was invalid, I know that they entered into it in good faith". Mary was still struck dumb at what she was hearing. Anne adjusted the sleeping infant in her arms and gave Mary a little shake with the hand closest to her. "Did you hear me Mary? His Majesty has agreed to make it so! You are to be a Princess again! And he will be able to find the best match in Europe for you!". Mary shook her head in disbelief. "I…am to be a Princess again?". Anne nodded, smiling indulgently. "You are. His Majesty has taken my advice and will put it to Parliament before it closes this Christmastide". "And…you convinced His Majesty my father to do this?". Anne had the grace to look a little abashed. "I know it is not much, considering what I have put you through. But all the same, it will get you a good marriage and a child of your own one day. Perhaps you will be a Queen and your sons will be Kings". For the first time in her life, Mary gave Anne Boleyn a genuine smile.


	4. Chapter 4: Christmastide

CHAPTER 4: CHRISTMASTIDE

Anne was churched and returned to normal court life just two weeks after she had born the Prince. She had spent her last days in confinement finishing up the staff appointments for her son's household and ordering furniture to Eltham Palace, which would serve as his nursery, as Henry had given her leave to do. When Edward was older, Anne would see to it that he and Elizabeth shared their studies, but for now, he was too young and too precious to be exposed to a three-year-old, even if she was a Princess. Henry wanted the Prince sent to Eltham before guests began arriving at court for the Christmas season. He too wanted to prevent his only legitimate son's exposure to disease. Henry had been in daily meetings with his Privy Council, discussing the decision to reinstate Lady Mary as a Princess. It took nearly a week to sort through everything, but ultimately it went to Parliament and was ratified. The Lady Mary was to be called Princess Mary once again. However, the stipulation was that since the King's marriage to the Princess Dowager was invalid, Mary would be last in the succession.

That meant that not only would Anne and Henry's sons supersede her as princes, Elizabeth and any other daughters they had would supersede her as well. Still, she would have the title of Princess, and that was something. Then, in the albeit highly unlikely event that the worst befell all of Anne and Henry's children, Mary would be Queen. The King had also ordered a week of festivities in honor of the birth of the Prince. There were jousts and maskings and elaborate dinners with exotic themes. Of course, Anne had missed out on these festivities, as she had still been awaiting her churching. When she finally returned to court life, the entire court could not help but comment on how well she looked well after childbed. Her cheeks were still rounded and her breasts still heavy with milk. Anne reveled in the besotted glances Henry would throw at her, just like when she was a girl newcome to court and he had just begun to notice her. After everything was settled for the Prince's nursery palace and he was dispatched there, she had continued to work with her mother the Countess of Wiltshire, (soon to be the Duchess of Wiltshire) to finish planning celebrations for the twelve days of Christmas.

This Christmas would be the merriest Christmas at court in decades. It was the first time that there would be a Prince in England's cradle. Certainly, it was the first time in many years that there were two living royal children from the same woman. Anne's heart felt lighter than it had in a long time as well. For once there was no rival, no deep desperation to bear a son, no anxiety at all! Indeed, Anne had almost forgotten what it was like to have no shadow of anxiousness darkening her spirits. She would be uncontested Queen during all of Christmas, and shortly after the new year, she would hope to conceive again. It was also a great source of joy for her to have her little daughter Elizabeth with her for the season. She was the most engaging and precocious child, and surely everyone had to think it so, not just Anne with the bias of being her mother. Even Princess Mary was much taken with her sister, despite the odds. Anne spent about an hour or two with Princess Elizabeth every day. Today, George joined her as they read the legend of Mélusine, an old French tale about a water goddess who rose out of a magical fountain and married a knight.

Anne let Elizabeth read the story in her stilted French. "Mélusine est née de sa…fontAIN sacrEE". Anne giggled. "Fon-taine sac-rée, ma petit cherí", she corrected her. Elizabeth looked up from the book and smiled at her mother. "Fontain sacrée", she amended. Anne nodded. Elizabeth bent her brilliant red gold head back down to continue reading before she blushed and looked back up. "Your Majesty, Lady Mother, this says that Mélusine was naked", she giggled. George chuckled and so did Anne. "It is a part of the story, Elizabeth". She pointed to the line. "See here? ' _Sa peau était pâle comme le marbre blanc de la fontaine_ '. She was so beautiful that her skin was as pale as the marble of the fountain. It was said to glow with unearthly light". Elizabeth scrunched up her face. "But Lady Mother, why would someone want to be so pale? Surely it must mean she was ill?". George laughed out loud.

In England, and indeed in most of Europe, the beauty standard was pale skin, light eyes, and blonde hair. Anne shook her head. "It was a sign of beauty". Elizabeth scoffed. "I cannot see how!". She turned to George. "Lord Uncle, I am sure that Her Majesty, my mother, is the most beautiful woman there is, and she isn't pale like marble". George laughed again. Anne was unlike most of the other women at court. She had dark hair, black eyes, and swarthy, olive skin. As a child, she had been teased for her dark features. Even in her adult life as the King's acknowledged mistress, many foreign dignitaries reported that she was not the handsomest woman there was, probably based on the fact that she was not like the pale, light eyed women at most royal courts. But she had conducted herself with confidence since the first person who praised her looks when she was a girl was no less than King Francois of France, who shared a similar coloring. "Of course, you would be right", George agreed. "Your mother the Queen is the most beautiful woman there is". Elizabeth nodded and looked down at the book. "My Lady Governess says that this story is centuries old. That must be why they are wrong about what we think beauty is now". Anne laughed. "Perhaps, _ma chere_ ". She indicated that Elizabeth should continue reading and her daughter obediently obliged.

"You know, Princess, you are a descendant of Mélusine", said George once Elizabeth had finished. Elizabeth looked up at him skeptically. "Lord Uncle, this is a fairy story. My Lady Governess says that fairy stories aren't real". "Ah, yes", said Anne indulgently, but the story of Mélusine is supposed to be real. You see, she is named as the matron of the royal house of Luxembourg in France". Elizabeth was looking at her mother intently as she continued. "Have you begun your studies of the English royal lineage?", Anne asked. Elizabeth shook her head and her red gold curls swung gently under her cap. "No Lady Mother. Lady Bryan says I will begin in the new year". "Well, I will have you know that you are named for your Lady Grandmother", said Anne. "That is to say, His Majesty's mother, not the Queen's, although they share the same name", George supplemented. "Your grandmother was Queen Elizabeth". "Oh I've heard that", said Elizabeth brightly. "She was a Plantagenet Princess, like Mary's Lady Governess the Countess of Salisbury". Elizabeth paused thoughtfully. "Lady Mother, I've heard that the Plantagenets are the true Kings of England". George and Anne looked aghast.

"Who said something like that to you Elizabeth?", asked George quickly. "Not Lady Bryan?", asked Anne. Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "No…", she answered tentatively. "I overheard it from some servants. I…I don't think they knew I was listening". Anne nodded as she made a mental note to speak to Lady Bryan about her household staff. "Very well", she said aloud. "Well, the last Plantagenet King, Richard III, lost at the Battle of Bosworth to your grandfather King Henry VII. Everyone had considered King Richard a usurper anyway, and they were happy to have a Tudor on the throne". This wasn't exactly true as far as Anne knew from her own history lessons. Many Englishmen wanted Edward Plantagenet the Earl of Warwick; the Countess of Salisbury's brother- to be King, as he was the only surviving York heir. And then of course there were the several pretenders that rose up during Henry VII's reign acting the part of one of the princes lost in the Tower, and many of them were supported by thousands as rival Kings. Henry VII had had all of them executed; Edward Earl of Warwick just before Katherine of Aragon arrived in England, to oblige her royal parents. "When your grandfather and grandmother married, it united the houses of York and Lancaster and ended the Cousins Wars, and everyone was very happy", said George, who must've realized what Anne had been thinking. "And anyway, as the son of the eldest Plantagenet Princess, and grandson of the last lawfully crowned Plantagenet King, Edward IV, you can rest assured that your father is the true King". Elizabeth nodded, contented.

Anne took a short breath and continued with her previous topic. "Now, sweeting, your Lady Grandmother Queen Elizabeth was the daughter of another Queen Elizabeth. You will have heard the story of the Queen's Oak?", Anne queried. Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. My nurse read it to me; the story of how a beautiful widow stood under a big oak tree to ask the King to help her as he rode by. She was so beautiful and kind that he fell in love with her and married her and made her his Queen". Anne smiled at her daughter. "That's right. But, did you know that this is the story of your great grandmother, and how she married your great grandfather, King Edward IV?". Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise. "No, Lady Mother! I never knew!". Anne nodded. "And your great, great grandmother was Jacquetta, the Duchess of Bedford". Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. "Jac-quet-ta", she sounded out, puzzled. "Lady Mother this isn't an English name, is it?". George laughed and pinched Elizabeth's cheek. "Nothing misses you, does it sweetheart?", he chuckled.

Princess Elizabeth did not like being pinched on the cheek, but she did love her uncle's indulgence and praise. "So, it isn't English then? Is it a French name?", she asked. "It is", replied Anne. "Because she was born Jacquetta St. Pol, kin to the the French royal family. The St. Pol family is of the House of Luxembourg". Elizabeth sat quietly for a moment. Anne could almost hear the gears turning swiftly in the mind of her clever daughter. "So…if my great-great grandmother was of the house of Luxembourg, and Mélusine is the founder of that family, I really **would** be a descendant of hers!". Anne nodded. Elizabeth looked thoughtful and then a grin spread across her face. "Then I am not only the daughter of a King, I am the descendant of a water goddess". "That's right!", said Anne, laughing indulgently. "I would have you know your worth, Princess Elizabeth, for you are far more than ever you thought you were!". Elizabeth squealed delightedly. "Oh! Lady Mother I would so love to be like her and swish about a large bath with a fish tail!".

"Ah, now **that** has the sound of a lovely masque", said George. "Oh yes!", exclaimed Elizabeth. "It would be such a lovely masque! I should love to learn a dance for a masque like that!". "Then we shall make it so", Anne ruled. Elizabeth gasped. "Can we really, Madam?". " _Bien sur_ ", Anne replied warmly. "I shall order it so. On Twelfth Night, we will have a masque and I shall order lovely costumes to be made…". Anne paused for effect. She knew Elizabeth was holding her breath. "…And I will have your dancing tutor teach you the dance that you will do for your part". Elizabeth exhaled heavily and beamed. "Oh, Your Majesty! Thank you! I will be so delighted!". Anne kissed her daughter on both cheeks and stood. Elizabeth and George stood as they must when the Queen stands. "I will take my leave now, Elizabeth. I know that Lady Bryan will want you to have a nap soon". Elizabeth pouted, and Anne gave her a sharp look. Immediately Elizabeth fixed her expression to one of demure blandness. Anne nodded her approval and Elizabeth curtsied low. "I bid you good day then, Lady Mother". "The King and I will see you to bed later", Anne promised. Elizabeth nodded and watched her mother and uncle turn and leave her nursery.

The Christmas festivities at court were elaborate and merry. There was hardly a dull moment throughout the entire Christmastide. Everyone remarked that it was the merriest time they could remember at the English court. The Seymour brothers, Edward and Thomas had silently crept back to court, out to reestablish their places after the shameful execution of their sister, Jane. Anne didn't care. Really, she had no quarrel with them now. They had lost, and she was victorious and unstoppably merry. Anne was sure that even that sour old fox Eustace Chapuys, the Spanish Ambassador, would not say anything against her this season, despite his bias against her. Anne was everywhere, sparkling in her gowns, glowing in her beauty, laughing in her triumph. She even danced with the handsome and charismatic Thomas Seymour in her lighthearted joy. Anne gave Edward Seymour a purse of gold as a gift, and implored him to bring his wife, Anne Stanhope, to court to serve in her household.

Anne was once again, the brightest star at court. She gave out alms, and she gave lavish gifts to her friends and courtiers. She had commanded that she and the King and the Princesses dine as a family at the high table, and honored Mary by seating her at her right hand. Anne smiled innocently at the old Spanish dog Chapuys, knowing that he would have to report her generosity to Mary's cousin and his master, the Emperor. The King denied Anne nothing these days and spared no expense in showering her in extravagant gifts. The court watched bear baitings, ice skated on the frozen river, and even had high spirited snowball fights. The King's fool Will Somers and the Lord of Misrule, kept the court in stitches with their antics and silly games. One of the games was that a piece of mistletoe was stuck under a bench in the dining hall, and whichever Lord happened to be sitting above it had to come and kiss the Princess Mary.

Mary's face went quite red as one of the Neville boys produced the mistletoe, waving it about. He came over to the high table, bowed, and kissed Mary full on the lips. He was quite handsome, and the court exploded in approval. The King roared with laughter at his 20 year old, unmarried daughter. "Sister, you're as red as a beet!", Elizabeth exclaimed. The court broke into laughter again as Mary smiled shyly and looked at her feet. " _Mon Dieu_ ", Anne whispered to Henry. "Look at Mary! She is ready for a husband and children of her own. We must find a worthy match for her in the upcoming year". Henry nodded. It was true. Mary was a woman grown, and in the prime of her life. And she was not getting any younger. If she wanted heirs, she would need to be married soon. "We will discuss it in the new year", he agreed. Then he clapped his hands for some music and dancing. Anne danced with Princess Mary, Princess Elizabeth, and her cousin Mary Fitzroy, the Duchess of Richmond. Mary Fitzroy was elegant despite her great weight. She too had been with child, like the old crone had promised. _Perhaps she really should have set up shop as a wise woman_ , Anne thought ironically as the musicians struck up.

The court applauded the four royal ladies and began to join the dance floor. Elizabeth had declared loudly that she would stay up all night, but she never lasted past seven of the clock, and Lady Bryan came to carry her sleeping little charge back to her rooms. The rest of the court danced all night. There were several masques throughout the twelve days of Christmas, including the one Elizabeth had asked for. Anne had played Mélusine, and Elizabeth had played one of her beautiful daughters that returned with her to the fairy fountain. Anne was ravishing in her dress with the skirts divided and bedazzled to appear to be a scaly fish tail. Elizabeth wore a jeweled costume gown of silver and danced her part with spirit and joy and reveled in the praise from the courtiers of how well she danced, and how pretty she was. That night the King, enticed by Anne's alluring costume, whispered to her that he would like to come to her bed later, although he knew he could not. Anne had been churched, but her monthly course was still there after childbirth. He knew he would not be able to come to her bed for a month at the very least. Anne had smiled coyly at him and told him that she was yearning for him as well. God himself knew she was not.


	5. Chapter 5: The New Year

CHAPTER 5: THE NEW YEAR

Shortly after the celebrations of the new year and the lavish gift giving on Twelfth Night, Anne and Henry had to say goodbye to their little Princess, as she was set to return to her nursery at Hatfield Palace. "Sir, Madam, may I come back to court for Easter?", Elizabeth asked her parents. "Lady Princess! Their Majesties will send word to us at Hatfield when you are to be invited to court next", reproved Lady Bryan. "You should not presume to ask!". Henry laughed. "It is alright, Lady Bryan". He picked Elizabeth up and twirled her around. "Of course you are welcome at court for Easter, Bessie! The Queen and I will be happy to receive you". "I would be so pleased, Sir!", exclaimed Elizabeth giggling. Anne smiled on the two of them as Henry sat the little Princess down. "That means we will have to order new gowns, doesn't it Lady Bryan? Because I will be at court for Easter!". Lady Bryan laughed at her vain little charge. "If it please their Majesties, Lady Princess". "Of course", said Anne. "I will send the best dressmaker in London to you. How should you like to match with me, Elizabeth?". Elizabeth beamed. "That would be wonderful, Lady Mother!". She curtsied low to both of her parents. The court had assembled to see her off, and her litter had just been brought around from the stables. "Farewell, Sir, Madam. I look forward to when I shall see you again! I pray God keeps Your Majesties in his protection". The courtiers bowed and curtsied low to her, and she and Lady Bryan got into the litter and were off.

A few days later, Princess Mary was departing to her residence at Kings Langley in Hertfordshire. Just as with her younger sister, the court and the King and Queen had come to see her off. Mary was overflowing with a strange mix of emotions. On the one hand, Anne had been the ruination of her life. It was she who had solidified the rift between her parents, had tormented her sainted mother, and had stolen her father the King's love away from his legitimate wife and legitimate daughter. She had treated Mary with cruelty, and had influenced the King to treat her coldly, and had forced her to wait upon her bastard sister Elizabeth. On the other hand, her mother was gone now, God bless her, so there was no impediment to Anne's union with the King…although it had to be said that many a good Catholic considered the King to be a single man since he and Anne Boleyn were not truly married by the laws of the Church. Still, now that there was a Prince, who would really complain? Of course, it was not possible that the lack of male heirs in her parents' marriage was a result of God's displeasure in the union. It was just unfortunate, nothing more. It did ring strange to her that Anne Boleyn, a commoner (for all of her father being made an Earl and she herself being made a Marquis), should bear a son for England, when her own mother, a true Princess of the blood could not.

And now, Queen Anne- Mary surprised herself at calling Anne Boleyn as such in her own private thoughts- Queen Anne, had restored her. She convinced the King to restore her title of Princess, and it was she who spoke to the King of finding a match for her. Mary had long wanted to be married and have a family of her own. Girls far younger than her were already proper wives and mothers. The seven years when her father had been openly courting Anne, and Mary's subsequent bastardization upon the dissolution of her parents' marriage made her marriage prospects quite limited. No one knew whether she was a useless bastard or a pedigreed Princess, and so no King or great Duke with any sense would have her for himself or his son. But now, Queen Anne had restored her to her rightful place and her marriage prospects were bright once again. And Queen Anne had treated her so kindly during Christmas and had given her a wonderful gift of a beautiful white mare with a saddle made of red Spanish leather and encrusted with jewels. Anne had also helped Elizabeth to stitch a beautiful chemise of white on white silk embroidery, which Elizabeth gave as her present. Anne had kept her by her side for the whole of Christmas and had danced with her and laughed with her. Queen Anne had even brushed Mary's hair herself before the feast of Twelfth Night and lent her the Queen's own jewels to wear and claimed "they would so become" her in the gown she was wearing.

It was so strange! Mary knew Anne Boleyn to be an upstart, and a whore, and almost certainly a heretic, but she had formed the beginnings of a sort of affection for her. Try as she might, she could no longer think of her as a witch who had enchanted her father with evil spells. Being in close companionship with her for all of December, she had begun to see what the King loved about her, and knew it was not a work of dark sorcery. Mary had always thought it had been her flirtatious nature, her fashionable dress, and her innate sensuality- in short, the things any man liked in a mistress or a whore. She was also gifted at the courtly skills of dancing and singing and hunting. But now, Mary could see that Queen Anne had not only a sharp wit, she had a keen intelligence and love of learning. She was charitable, she had a love of scripture...even if her views were quite wrong. To see her with Elizabeth was to see her at her tenderest and most endearing. She was funny, and she was challenging. Mary had never thought the latter was a becoming quality in a woman, but she understood now why her father allowed Anne to challenge him. No one else would be as truthful with him. Her challenges made him second guess himself, and he had intimated to her that it made him a better King. In faith, she knew her mother, Queen Katherine had not been like that. She had never opposed him or challenged him outright. She would work behind the scenes to influence his opinions. Most would see that as simply discreet or humble, but it seemed that her father felt it was a sort of manipulation, unlike Queen Anne's frank, on the spot comments or reprimands.

In one of the Christmas masques, Anne had played Abigail, the biblical woman who was sensible when her husband was not, and had been the heroine in her story. King Henry had ordered this masque as a compliment to his Queen, saying that he often thought of Anne as his Abigail, urging him to reason. Mary felt a pain of betrayal in her stomach, knowing her mother in heaven must surely disapprove her new found liking of Anne Boleyn, God forgive her! Or perhaps her mother would want her to forgive as the Christian faith demanded. Either way, her deferential curtsey to Queen Anne, the kiss she planted on both of her cheeks in farewell, and her "God bless Your Grace", had all been surprisingly genuine. Queen Anne and her father bid her come back to court for Easter, and Mary was wholeheartedly looking forward to her return. Anne had taken her hands and made her promise to write, and her father said he would write to her as well. King Henry kissed her forehead tenderly and blessed her. The court bowed low to her, and Mary felt gratified that she no longer warranted the shallow bow due to a King's bastard, but the full honor due a Princess of the blood. With a short wave, she was in her litter and motioned for the rider to take off.

In mid-January King Henry held the formal ceremony for creating Thomas Boleyn, Anne's father, as Duke of Wiltshire. It also created her brother-in-law William Stafford as Baron Hunsdon as he had decided to call himself, due to the fact that he was gifted with the royal residence of Hunsdon as part of his new estate. Anne was delighted that her sister would be a Baroness. She had written to her asking after her health and extending her congratulations, as Mary had removed to Rochford Hall for her lying in. Mary had written back saying that she was well, that the midwives assured her the baby was still growing strong- for certainly the babe was kicking her within an inch of her life, and reproved Anne's familiar greeting that simply referred to her as "Mary" rather than "My Lady Hunsdon". The reprimand had made Anne giggle. About a month and a half later, Baron Hunsdon had written to Anne and Henry to inform them that Mary had been delivered of a beautiful healthy girl. In the PostScript, Mary had scrawled "Just like our Lady Mother; a girl, a boy, and then another girl. I hope my daughter will be as fortunate as our mother's youngest daughter, for she is named for her". It warmed Anne's heart that her little niece would be named Anne like herself. Baron Hunsdon had also asked for Anne to be her godmother and she had readily accepted.

Even throughout the muted season of Lent, the court was still merry. There were superb dishes of fish and vegetables being served while preachers gave stimulating sermons during dinner, as music and dancing was banned during Lent. Anne, emboldened again as Henry's one and only supreme love, chastised him to curb his appetite for both his own health and observance of the holy season. Henry, still grateful to her for giving him a son and head over heels in love with her, acquiesced to her admonition. Indeed, he knew she was right. His girth had expanded even more as of late, and his leg prevented him from being as active as he would like. And anyway, he could not do the activities he enjoyed during Lent, even if his leg was not giving him trouble. Anne had also taken a more active role in the reformation of the Church. Now that she had safely delivered her son, she was back to arguing with Thomas Cromwell.

"Lord Privy Seal, I tell you, you are out of order Sir!", she exclaimed at him as he and the King returned to Henry's privy chamber after a Privy Council meeting. Anne had, with the King's approval, been sitting within earshot in his apartments. "You are the very cause of all of the unrest in the country!". Cromwell tried to hide the ironic look on his face, that the woman who had been the very catalyst for the annulment of the King's first marriage and of England's break from Rome, should call **him** the cause of unrest. "I assure Your Majesty that everything I am doing is to the glory of God and the King". "On the contrary, my Lord, everything you are doing is to the glory of your privy purse!", Anne countered hotly. She turned to Henry. "Your Majesty, no subject of yours wishes for reform in the Church more than I, yet it must be done correctly! I cannot see how the Lord Privy Seal is seeking to evict the monks and nuns- who offer succor and aid to the poor and sick- from the abbeys and monasteries. They are doing their holy duty! What cause can there be for this but selfish gain?". "They are teaching Popish nonsense, Your Grace", replied Thomas Cromwell, trying to keep his temper in check before his Queen. "And so they must be re-educated", said Anne reasonably. "But they are not tricking people into paying ridiculous sums to have masses sung for souls in the imaginary Purgatory. They are not offering views of 'holy shrouds' and pieces of the 'true cross' for money, as corrupt clergy do. You seek to dissolve holy houses that do right by the people, and that is a disservice to them and to the King!". "Your Grace, with respect, this is entirely a right and good service I do for England and the King", Cromwell retorted. "Enough!", Henry boomed. "I tire of your constant bickering!".

"I am sorry to have disturbed Your Majesty", Cromwell apologized immediately. "I merely wished to assure the Queen that my intentions are noble". "Respectfully, I care not for your intentions, Sir", said Anne coolly. "I care for the results. We cannot have good monks turned away from their monasteries for them to be sacked, and godly nuns turned out from their abbeys in their petticoats, just so it may be given to some Lord or another". She turned to the King. "Your Majesty, you are the God appointed spiritual leader for this country. I know I need not worry that you will do your duty to God and England, as you have always done". Henry nodded. "I will", he agreed, relieved she would persist no more. But perhaps she was right. The reformation of the Church was a serious, godly undertaking. It would be blasphemy of the highest degree to allow it to be based on greed. "See that you send a report of the offenses of the institution to the Privy Council for examination", Henry ruled. "They will have to find that there has been gross misconduct, heresy, and extortion in order to be dissolved". Anne beamed. "You are very good, Sire! Very good!". Henry warmed at the praise from his wife.

Towards the end of March, Anne and Henry began privately discussing plans for possible betrothals for Princess Mary. "What of Charles, Duke of Orleans?", asked Anne, citing the match they had once had in mind for her sister. "He will be but one step from the French throne since the unfortunate death of Prince Francois last summer. And they are not so far apart in age, either. They must be what? Four or five years apart?". "Six, I think", said Henry. "But it may be more advantageous for us to secure an alliance with Spain". It went without mentioning that relations with Spain had been severely damaged by the annulment of his marriage to the Spanish Princess, Mary's mother. Even after her death and Mary's reinstatement, they were strained at best. "Were you thinking of the Emperor again?", Anne asked. "I had heard his wife Empress Isabella has been dreadfully sick, poor soul. They do not expect her to see her 40th year", she mused aloud. Mary had once been betrothed to marry her cousin, despite him being 16 years her senior. Henry shook his head. "I was thinking of his son, Prince Philip". Anne sat thoughtfully, absentmindedly tracing circles on the desk in front of her. "Well, I cannot think how we can allow her to go to Spain in any case", she said finally.

"Spain is fervently Catholic, and they are continuing with the Inquisition began by Mary's own grandmother. Surely, if we ally with Spain they will expect English aid in this most dreadful enterprise. It will seem like double dealing to Englishmen, if we root out Popish heresy in England, but assist in the burning of Protestants in Spain". Henry nodded in concession of the point. "You may be right", said the King, pulling at his beard. "But we should strive to rekindle a friendship with Spain". "She could be married to one of the Hapsburgs", Anne suggested. "Or perhaps the Archduke Maximillian. He is the nephew of the Emperor". Henry raised an eyebrow at her. "Nan, he is but a child of 9 if he is a day!". Anne shrugged. "He is 10 I believe, actually. You want so badly for a link to the Spanish, but there is hardly one that could be to her liking and fit our needs". She paused. "We could have her promised to one of the Protestant Lords. The Duke of Lorraine's son, Francis the Duke of Bar would be a fine match. I think they are of an age". Henry thought about it for a moment. "If we are allied with the League of Protestant Lords, I suppose it could put a little fear into the hearts of the Spanish".

Anne nodded. "The issue there is that Mary is a devout Catholic. She will be unhappy if she is forced to adhere to reformist practices. There would have to be a stipulation in the marriage contract that says she must be allowed to practice her faith, even if it must be in private". "It matters more that the alliance would serve us", Henry ruled. "Mary is a Princess. She knows her duty is to marry where she is bid for the good of her country". Anne bowed her head. "Well, in any case, we need not commit to anything just yet. Shall you send an envoy to the Duke of Lorraine to inquire about a match between Mary and his son?". Henry nodded. "I will speak on it in the next council meeting. Shall I send your father the Duke of Wiltshire for this diplomatic mission?", he asked enticingly. Anne laughed and shook her head. "Nay my Lord. Pray you, send someone else. He is just getting around to organizing the affairs of his new estates". _And, I do not want Mary to think it is me and mine sending her to the heartland of Protestantism_ , she thought.


	6. Chapter 6: Welcome News

CHAPTER 6: WELCOME NEWS

"Welcome back to court, Princess Mary", said Anne as she sat on her throne on the dais in the King's presence chamber. She stood to raise Mary up from her curtsey and kissed her warmly on both cheeks. "I trust your journey was not a difficult one?". "There was some bad flooding because of the melting ice, but we managed well enough", said Mary. "And are you well, daughter?", Henry asked jovially, as he also rose from the dais to kiss her in greeting. "Very well, Sire", said Mary smiling at him. "And trusting that Your Majesties are the same". The door from the King's privy chamber opened and Lady Bryan appeared, holding the hand of Princess Elizabeth. Anne turned to her daughter and smiled. "Ah, Elizabeth. Come and greet your sister". Elizabeth wiped her eyes and beamed. She had just been awoken from the nap she had been allowed to take in the King's own bed. She hurried over and dipped Mary a curtsey. "Good day, sister!", she chirped brightly. "Was your journey as long as mine was?". Anne, Henry, Mary, and the assembled courtiers laughed. "I am sure it was", said Mary, still chuckling at the precociousness of her little sister.

The Princesses had returned to court for the Easter celebrations and would remain at court until the May Day festivities. Easter at court was almost as merry as Christmastide had been. Anne, Princess Mary, and Princess Elizabeth wore matching gowns of bright green damask and cloth of silver, courtesy of the Queen. Anne's sister Mary had returned to court after being churched and had played Mary Mother of God in a masque that depicted Jesus being raised up from the dead. There was dancing and celebration, and savory foods, and the best wine. Anne danced with her daughter and stepdaughter as the King watched and clapped his hands to the beat of the music. Archbishop Cranmer had preached a wonderful sermon on Easter Sunday, that stirred everyone…everyone with the exception of Princess Mary perhaps, as she disapproved of the removal of the Mass, and the English service and prayers instead of the Latin. Anne had enjoyed a spirited debate with Princess Mary in her rooms later about the English service and English Bible. Anne had won the round using the logic that if Jesus himself chose fishermen to be his apostles, surely the fishermen on the Thames deserved to understand the scriptures as well.

The night after Easter the King had come to Anne's bed. As much as Anne had reveled in his love and esteem of her, she hated that she still had to resort to slut's tricks to even cause so much as a stir in his manhood. Yet somehow, he believed he was still young and lusty! It was sad that her life had come to this. Elizabeth had been conceived in a sweaty, searing passion only five years before. Then, Henry had inspired such desire in her during their love making. Now, after his leg injury and all of the weight he gained, Anne knew she would never again feel her body stir like that. So, once again, she had to rear above him and work him like a whore in a bawdy house. Once again, she had to sigh and moan as if she was in the throes of ecstasy, rather than in a contemptuous determination. Once again, her efforts were under rewarded with a small spattering of his seed that would surely never take root in her womb. And, once again, she felt a bit of a draft in her rooms and ordered "more wood to be brought to her fires". Every week at least once, the King would come to her bed. Every week, at least once, she ordered Edmund Stafford to her, to spill his seed into the vial, which she would immediately insert into her private parts, hoping to become with child. She missed her course in the end of April and then again towards the end of May.

Anne smiled to herself in her privy closet as she knelt in prayer. _Thank God it is so_ , she prayed. _Thank God I am once again with child_. She sent one of her maid servants to fetch her sister Mary. Mary came at once. "What is it Nan?", she asked. "Is everything alright?". Anne could barely contain her triumphant smile. It tickled on the side of her mouth, threatening to overcome her. "Everything is more than alright", said Anne calmly. "I have missed my course again. I am with child". Mary made a delighted squeal and hugged her. "Oh Nan! Is it really so? God be praised!". Anne could contain her smile no longer. "Have you told the King yet?", asked Mary. Anne shook her head. "No, not yet. I will tell him when he is finished with the Privy Council meeting". "And you must tell George, and our father, and our mother. And I suppose Uncle Howard will want to know. They will all be so pleased!", Mary added, excited. Anne clapped her hand to her head. "I should have called George to me to tell the both of you together!". "Come, let us go and find him", said Mary, taking Anne by the hand.

The two women left Anne's privy chamber to enter the presence chamber where some musicians were playing, and ladies were singing and chattering. They all stood to curtsey as Anne entered. She nodded to them and gestured that they could carry on as they were. She crooked her finger at one of her page boys who immediately came to her and bowed. "Your Grace". "I need you to find out where my brother George is and tell him to come attend me at once". He bowed and was off. Several minutes later, George and his wife Jane were announced and appeared in the doorway. Anne beckoned them over at once. She noticed that Jane was trying, and failing, to cover up a scowl. She was also holding a folded-up piece of parchment. The two of them executed their respective deferential bow and curtsey. "Your Majesty", they greeted her in unison. Anne gestured that they should follow her back to her privy chamber. Once inside she turned and smiled at them. "I have some news", she began. "What is it Anne?", asked Jane rudely. "George and I were quite busy just now". Anne arched an eyebrow at her insolence. "Anne may be your sister-in-law, but she is also your Queen", said Mary reprovingly. "You must show the proper respect!".

"We were not so busy anyway", said George dismissively. "What news have you, Anne?". "I have missed my course twice", she beamed triumphantly. "I am with child". "Oh Anne!", George exclaimed. He pulled her to him and kissed her full on the lips. "You will be the most revered matron of the Tudor Dynasty! Even more than My Lady the King's Grandmother, Margaret Beaufort was in her day!". Jane eyed Anne jealously, but no one seemed to really notice. After all, it was normal for siblings to kiss in greeting or upon the telling of good news. "Is it not the best news?!", Mary exclaimed, sharing George's joy. "The best", he agreed. "Have you told the King yet?". Anne shook her head. "I will go to him once I have had word that the Privy Council meeting has finished". He nodded. "Anne, if you have another son, you will be invincible. You will cement our family's power". "I know", said Anne seriously. "But for once, I do not think the King will mind much if I have a girl. I have already given him a legitimate Prince". "We will still pray for a Prince", George decided. "Of course", Anne agreed easily. He hugged her to him again and then noticed his wife's sour face.

"Why do you look as if you've been sucking on lemons?", he demanded. Jane put her parchment down on the nearby table and clasped her hands in front of her skirts. "I have no idea what you mean", she answered tersely. "Are you not happy that Anne is with child? We go onward and upward because of her, and if she bears a son, I've no doubt I will be made a Duke, making you a Duchess. Yet, you look as if you've eaten meat that has gone off". "It is my time of the month, Sir George", she retorted. "I am having pains". He nodded. "Mayhap you should go and lie down. Have one of your ladies make you a draft so you can rest". "I would almost take that as husbandly concern if I did not know that you just want me away!", Jane barked. George threw up his hands in frustration. "Madam, I know not what you would have from me! One moment you say that I never see to your care, and then when I express concern, you tell me it is to rid myself of you!". Anne had no intention of hearing any marital quarrels to dampen her mood. She put a hand up to silence the angry response that was no doubt about to erupt from her sister-in-law. "Jane, don't", said Anne authoritatively. "Mary knows someone who can make you a tincture for the pain. Why don't you show her Mary?". A command disguised as a question. Mary restrained a sigh and bade Jane to follow her back to her rooms.

George shook his head once he and Anne were alone. "I don't know what's wrong with that woman", he sighed. Anne shook her head too. In truth, she had no idea either. But she was almost certain she was lying about the feminine pains. She had the slightest memory of speaking with Jane just two weeks prior and she had complained about her courses. "Come on", Anne instructed, holding her hand out to him. He took it and followed her to her bedchamber where she sat on her big bed of state and motioned for him to do the same. George came and sprawled himself across the silken sheets as if he would sleep. "What were the two of you up to before I sent for you anyway?", Anne asked. "Jane made it seem as if I interrupted something important". For a moment, only a moment, George glanced away furtively. "Oh, it was nothing. We were discussing something of minor import. You did not disturb us". Anne smirked. She lay back on the bed on her side and turned him to her. She looked directly into the dark eyes that were so like hers. "George, I'll not have you lying to me. What was it, really?". He looked uncomfortable. "She…she wanted to talk about having a child".

Anne nodded. George and his wife had been married for more than ten years and had had no children. George shrugged. "She says I never come to her bed. I cannot argue. It's true. I can hardly bear to go to her bed". He laughed. "I can hardly even bear the scent of her terrible perfume! Whenever I scent it in the air I think of her and lose my appetite". Anne sighed and lay on her back. Of course, George would have no idea whether Jane was really having her courses or not. He abstained from her bed whether or not she had her courses anyway. "George, I know she's vile. But she is your wife. You have to do your duty. And you are our father's only heir. You must have a son". "You have a son and so does Mary", George pointed out. "Father could easily have them as heirs". "George!", Anne exclaimed, aghast. "They are not Boleyns! My son is a Tudor Prince, and Mary's is a…Carey". The paternity of Mary's son Henry was always debatable, as he was born towards the end of her affair with the King. Certainly, he had the golden curls and blue grey eyes of the Plantagenets; nothing like the dark eyes and dusty brown hair of William Carey, Mary's first husband. George looked at Anne seriously. "Nan, believe me, I would love to have a son of my own, or a daughter. I just…I can't imagine having a child with **Jane** ". Anne noted the anguish on his face. "She's like a Devil, Anne. I really think she's quite evil. What if our child looked like her? Or inherited her vileness? I really don't dare to get her with child".

Anne reached out and gently touched her brother's cheek, sympathy written all over her face. "Oh George". He closed his eyes at her touch. He knew that she understood what it was like to be married to someone who disgusted you more often than not. But unlike him, Anne did her duty, even if she had to degrade herself to do it. Anne hated having to do all the things she had to do to get the King to reach his pleasure. She was right. He should take her example and do his duty to his wife and his family. Despite his aversion, it wouldn't kill him to visit his wife's bed at least once a week. Suddenly, the door to Anne's bedchamber opened. They turned their surprised heads to see Jane standing in the doorway. She was looking at them in a way Anne had never seen before. It was as if she had caught them doing something wrong. "I came back to retrieve the letter from my surveyor", said Jane without any inflection. "I didn't see the two of you and then I heard voices from the Queen's bedchamber. I wanted to make sure that you were okay, Your Grace. And I see that you are more than okay". She sketched the briefest of curtsies and turned to walk away. Anne and George exchanged glances. "What was that all about?", Anne asked once she had gone. "Why did she look at us like that?". George shrugged. "I am sure your guess is as good as mine".


	7. Chapter 7:The Second Coming

CHAPTER 7: THE SECOND COMING

When Anne finally told the King about her pregnancy, he was overjoyed. He immediately sent to his jeweler and his goldsmith to have some extravagant gifts made for her. He told her that anything she wanted, anything at all, was hers as soon as she said the word. Anne told him that she would like to send to Spain for a Moorish physician and a Moorish midwife. She had heard that they were very learned doctors and scholars. Henry agreed, and Anne set about writing the letter herself. "How very extravagant you've become, my dear", Thomas Boleyn laughed, when Anne told him the news during a private dinner she had in her rooms, in celebration of the good news. "Nonsense my Lord!", smiled Anne's mother. "Anne is a Howard girl. Extravagance is in her blood". She took a dainty sip from her goblet and twinkled at her daughter. Thomas chuckled. "Yes well, I should like to think that her determination and grit come from her Boleyn blood!". Anne regarded her parents thoughtfully, hiding her thoughts behind a courtier's smile.

Years ago, her mother's comment would have made her father scowl, irritating his sensitive pride. Anne's mother had been born Elizabeth Howard, the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. Her father on the other hand, had been born the son of a mere knight. Mary had told Anne years ago that when she was nine years old, their parents had had a row. Their aunt, Princess Anne of York, had taken Mary aside and explained that their mother had not wanted to marry their father, because she felt he had been beneath her. In hindsight, it must have been ironic to Princess Anne, that a mere daughter of a Duke felt humbled by her marriage when she had seen her own sisters, Royal Princesses, married to virtual nobodies. Anne could remember her father always feeling the need to remind everyone that his mother, Margaret Butler, had been the daughter of the 7th Earl of Ormond. Of course, that had only made him even more irritable, as his noble connections were only Irish, and only through the female line.

When Anne was a girl, no more than six years old, she had been sent to the court of Margaret of Austria. She recalled that when introducing himself, her father had often cited that he was the grandson of the Earl of Ormond on his mother's side, and the grandson of the Lord Mayor of London on his father's side. He never liked being in the shadow of women, yet he seemed to spend his life in it. First his mother being the heiress to an earldom, then his wife being the daughter of a Duke, and now his daughter was Queen of England. Yet, her father had made a name for himself through his diplomatic prowess. And he had been made a Viscount, an Earl, and finally, he had been made a Duke- the equal of his wife's father; the equal of his brother-in-law, the current Duke of Norfolk. Sometimes Anne thought that might have been all he ever wanted. He was certainly more relaxed than she could ever recall him being. Indeed, he could now genuinely laugh at his wife's gentle teasing, instead of biting back bile and making gritted teeth look like a smile.

"I'm sure I have inherited the best of the Boleyns and the Howards", said Anne deftly. "Pray God you're carrying a son that inherits the best of the Boleyns, Howards, as well as the Tudors", said Thomas Boleyn, holding up his goblet in a toast. "Amen", said her mother brightly, holding her goblet up as well. "Here's to an easy birth, and a new Prince in the cradle of England". Anne smiled and held up her goblet before taking a sip. Before she could even stop herself, recollections of how silent and cold her parents had been towards her just last year, when she miscarried a child and the King turned his favor from her, filled her mind and threatened to overwhelm her with resentment. She kept her smile steady, and took a sip from her goblet, hoping the sweetness of her wine would wash the bitterness away.

The Moorish physician and midwives Anne had sent for had arrived in England within a month. Anne was amazed at their advice as it was so different from what English midwives and physicians would prescribe. They informed her that she should not drink ale or strong wine as it could damage the babe. In fact, they told her she should have boiled water and watered-down wine if she must have it at all. They told her that she should eat fresh fruits, which was quite outlandish, but she complied nevertheless. They also told her that she should remain active until the time drew nearer and so every day, Anne went out for brisk walks in the gardens, no matter the weather. To her surprise, she felt more invigorated than she had in her previous pregnancies. She continued to do archery, play at bowls, and at times, she and the King would go out for short, gentle rides.

Towards the end of August, Anne requested that the court go to visit Princess Elizabeth to celebrate her birthday, which would be on the 7th of September. The King of course could deny her nothing, and he too was eager to see their little Princess. Anne also wrote a letter to Princess Mary saying that she and the King and naturally, Princess Elizabeth would be delighted if she would come to Hatfield as well. The chosen courtiers, the King, the Queen, and Princess Mary spent a merry week at Hatfield celebrating Elizabeth's fourth birthday. Anne could hardly believe that her daughter had grown so much. Already she was tall for her age, and especially intelligent. Princess Elizabeth paraded around in the beautiful gowns Anne had bought for her and danced with elegance and precision. She played a song for everyone on the virginals and sung in a pretty, surprisingly powerful voice. It was a Welsh song that one of her maids had taught her. Yes, her daughter was learning Welsh! According to her tutors, she was quite gifted in language. Already her French was nearing perfect fluency, and she had begun basic Latin, and now Welsh, courtesy of one Blanche Parry- the maid who had taught her the song.

Anne decided that she too could improve upon her own languages. Her French was perfect of course, having spent a good portion of her young life at the French court, but she could certainly improve upon her Latin. She could learn Welsh too and perhaps Italian and Spanish. Maybe she would even learn German! Why should she not? Now that she was no longer fighting to remain on the throne, she could enjoy being Queen. She could focus on learning rather than scheming. Anne made a mental note that once she was churched, she would find a language tutor for herself. For now, it was a joy to watch her daughter's sparkling courtly skills. Her joyful feelings were slightly dampened, because she knew that in the coming days, Lady Bryan would be breaking some news that might be hard for Elizabeth to take. Margaret Bryan had been Elizabeth's governess since she was born, but she would soon be reassigned to Prince Edward. Anne's distant relation, Katherine Champernowne would take over Lady Bryan's duties. The King had commanded it from the start, but Anne had requested that they wait until Elizabeth was at least four. Thankfully, she would not have to broach the subject with her beloved little daughter herself.

The court returned to Whitehall, the palace which had once been York Place, but had been renamed after the death of its one-time owner who fell from grace, Cardinal Wolsey. Henry had given it to Anne, which had been gratifying beyond belief. Once upon a time, Cardinal Wolsey and the King had been almost synonymous; all those years ago when he had essentially had the power of the King. It was Wolsey who ruled while Henry pursued his pleasures. It was Wolsey who had thwarted Anne's betrothal to Henry Percy, son of the Earl of Northumberland. The two of them had been so in love, and Anne's future had been so unclear at the time, what with her betrothal to James Butler, Earl of Ormond being unsettled for years. She had decided to forge her own destiny and marry Henry Percy in secret. When word got to the Cardinal that they were betrothed, he had given Percy a sound lecture and so had his father. They put an end to it. Percy was married off to his original betrothed, the Talbot girl. Anne was sent to her family's country estate at Hever in exile as punishment. It had been so gratifying to see the Cardinal fall from the King's favor. And when he was charged with treason, it gave her a dark pleasure to have Henry Percy- as he was by that time a peer of the realm- sent to apprehend him, arrest warrant in hand.

It was too bad Wolsey had died on the road to London before he could face true justice. But Henry Percy too was dead now. He had died of failing health earlier in June. As the only man Anne had ever loved, it was a blow to her, especially so shortly after the happy news of her pregnancy. But he had been unhappy in his loveless marriage, and his wife by all counts was a greater shrew than Anne ever could have aspired to be. _God willing, he is at peace now_ , Anne thought. Whitehall was where the Christmas feast would be held that year, not that Anne would get to enjoy it. She would be in confinement by then, awaiting the birth of her child. Brooding on such unhappy thoughts had made Anne weary and so she had decided to enter confinement a little early. She sent word to Princess Mary to ask if she would attend her again. Princess Mary had written back to say that regrettably, she was in poor health, but that she would come as soon as she was recovered. Anne did not know what to make of that. Mary was often in ill health and she knew that she suffered great pains during her time of the month, but it still made her uneasy. She knew that Mary had formed a sort of affection for her, although she knew that it was strained and tainted with a barrage of several other more negative feelings. But she had worked tirelessly for almost a year to endear herself to Mary, and thus gain the support of Mary's supporters. Perhaps it was the habit of constant vigilance of conspiracy that made Mary's actions seem suspicious.

In any case, Anne was happy to have her daughter Elizabeth with her. Elizabeth was not expected to court until the time of the Christmas feast. However, the little Princess had written a few weeks before Anne's confinement to ask if she could come to attend her for her lying in. It warmed Anne's heart. It was not traditional to have a child come into confinement, but she ordered it so. The King allowed her to do as she would these days. Elizabeth would simply leave when Anne's labor began. "Your Majesty, shall I read to you in French? Or Latin?", Princess Elizabeth asked as Anne lay in her daybed. She smiled. "Latin if you please". Elizabeth looked sheepish. "As you wish Madam. But I'll tell you now that I still stumble over may words in Latin". "That's quite alright", said Anne indulgently. Nothing gave her greater pleasure than spending time with her children. She had visited the Prince at Eltham Palace without the court throughout the entire year. She loved to kiss his nose and tickle his feet. She loved the way he would doze in her arms when she sang to him. In a few days, she would have yet another child to love.

Two days later, on December 31st of 1537, Anne's pains began. Once again, she was caught off guard by the sharp severity of the aches in her lower regions. She felt like she would snap in two. Princess Elizabeth had been whisked from the room the moment Anne had cried out the first time. Elizabeth had frozen in fear and looked up at her aunt Mary. "There now, Princess", said Mary soothingly. "Everything is alright. This is what it is to give birth. Her Majesty your mother will be fine". Elizabeth had looked skeptical. Mary gave a small, carefree giggle. "Certainly, your mother had greater pains when she was in labor with Your Highness". "Did she?", asked Elizabeth, startled. "Oh yes", said Mary. "Her cries were far louder than these".

"Then I am sorry to have caused Her Majesty so much pain. I did not realize that having a baby was like this". Mary dared not mention that many women died in childbed. "It is. Your mother will be fine. Now, why don't you go to Mistress Champernowne? Would you like her to take you to the King so you can tell him?". Elizabeth was intrigued. "What shall I tell him?". "You can tell him that Her Majesty has gone into labor. Can you do that?". Elizabeth nodded. "Are you sure?", Mary asked. "It is a very grown up responsibility". Elizabeth put her chin up and stood tall. "Of course, Lady Aunt. I will tell His Majesty that the Queen has gone into labor". Mary nodded. "The King will be very happy to hear the news. He may even give you a gift". Elizabeth was delighted. "I shall have Mistress Champernowne bring me at once then". "That would be best. His Majesty would like to be the first to know, other than the ladies attending the Queen". Elizabeth dropped a small, graceful curtsey and exited the room. Mary smiled at her precocious little niece, and then turned back to the chaos of the birthing chamber.

The whole process was nowhere near as long as Anne's previous labors. After just three hours, the midwives were telling Anne to push. Several minutes later there was a loud cry, and the familiar slump into dazed consciousness. The head midwife twitched up the white linen sheets the baby had been caught up in. "It is a boy, Your Grace!", she exclaimed. "Another lusty son!". "God be praised!", exclaimed Anne's mother excitedly. "This is wonderful, my dear! The King will be so pleased!". Anne felt the smile spread over her lips. Another boy. She was now invincible, just as George had said. Without missing a beat, Elizabeth Boleyn produced a silver backed brush and began to dress her daughter's hair. It would not do to have the King see her in a state of disarray. Anne beckoned to her sister-in-law. "Jane, go and find George. You can tell the King together". Jane looked disappointed that she could not go alone, but she knew it was for the best. It was George who needed to be before the King, for it was George who could be given a new title. "At once, Your Grace". Jane curtsied and flitted from the room. "I'll go and bring the birthing ale, Your Majesty", said Margaret Douglas, newly returned to court after her disgrace the year before. Anne nodded, sighed, and lay back in her bed as the midwives set about cleaning the new baby Prince. "Tired, Your Grace?", asked Catherine Brandon cheerily. "Exhausted beyond comprehension", Anne replied. Catherine laughed. "At least it was a short labor this time. And another boy! What a blessing you are to England, Your Majesty!".

Several minutes later, the King came bursting into Anne's confinement chamber, saying much the same as the Duchess of Suffolk had. "Oh my love! You are such a blessing unto me and unto England!". Anne inclined her head and smiled. She was quite fatigued. "I am always happy to serve my King and my country", she intoned sweetly. "Especially in labors of love". "You will be so pleased, Anne", said the King, sounding like an excited boy. "The portrait we sat for last year has been completed. And I will have it hang in the gallery in this palace". This did please her. The portrait was going to include the images of Henry's parents, King Henry VII and Queen Elizabeth Plantagenet. That painting would solidify Anne's place as Queen of England to the world. If the foreign monarchs didn't know before, they would surely know when their ambassadors viewed the portrait in the gallery and sent their reports back. "I am also going to put a regency plan to Parliament", Henry continued. Anne was shocked. "Sire?". He waved his hands dismissively, knowing her concerns. "Now Nan, do not fret. I am not unwell". He paused, thinking of the terrible wound on his leg that never healed and how it was slowly poisoning him unto death. "I am as well as I can be". Anne nodded at his discreet correction.

"It is merely a matter of state", Henry went on. "I assure you I do not intend to leave this world for many years". "I am relieved that Your Majesty does not believe your work on earth is done, simply because we now have two Princes". Henry barked a hearty laugh. "Barely delivered of a child and still retains wit as quick as a whip", he chuckled. "But quite right sweetheart. I am not absolved of the duties of kingship, and I hope not to leave this world until after my sons are of age, as my father left me". Anne smiled at him as he took her hands. "However, I think you will be pleased to hear that I have named you as Regent in our son's minority if God should call me before such a time". Anne was overwhelmed. "Your Grace, this is a great honor for me. I am pleased that you put your faith in me. I would carry out my responsibilities as well as I was able, but I hope that I will not have to, and that God spares you to us all". "I know you would sweetheart", said Henry. "Now! I would like to see my son!". Anne had let the wet nurse suckle the baby for once. She had been too tired to argue with her mother about the impropriety of a Lady and Queen suckling her own child this time.

The wet nurse brought the sniffling little bundle over. Henry peered down at the baby as she handed him over. "Why Nan! The boy is the spitting image of you!". Anne beamed. "I thought so myself when I saw him. Shall we call him Henry, my Lord?". Henry waved his hand. "How can we, when he is all of you and none of me!", he joked. "Why don't we call him…Richard? He looks like a Richard, I think. Dark and debonair. He will be a little heartbreaker like his Uncle George!". Jane, who had been sitting at a discrete distance stiffened at the mention of her husband's well-known infidelities. "Richard then", Anne agreed. Henry cradled the little bundle closer to him. "Prince Richard, Duke of York". Upon hearing that name, Anne froze. Prince Richard, Duke of York sounded so familiar.

Within moments Anne was filled with a sudden dread. The last Prince Richard, Duke of York had been the younger brother of Henry's mother, Queen Elizabeth. He had gone into the Tower on the order of his usurping uncle, Richard III, Duke of Gloucester, and he had not come back out again. Then to her even greater horror, she realized her older son was also another Prince Edward, just like Queen Elizabeth's other brother. He had been born to be King, but he too had been ordered to the Tower by Richard III. These two boys were the Princes lost in the Tower, who disappeared without a trace, whose bodies were never found. And now, she and Henry had named their two sons after them. Anne did not believe in such superstitions, but it did seem ominous. She could not shake the cold tingling in her spine now. Was it to tempt fate? She tried her best to smile up at the King. "Prince Richard, Duke of York". Then she frowned. In the background she could just glimpse her sister-in-law Jane looking at her disconcertingly.


	8. Chapter 8: Dirty Work

CHAPTER 8: DIRTY WORK

A few weeks after Anne had given birth, Prince Richard was dispatched to Eltham Palace to share his brother Edward's nursery. Anne had begun to lose some of the weight she had gained from her pregnancy, but her hips had widened slightly. Henry said that he liked this change however, and Anne hardly cared at all. Why should she? She was untouchable now. And really, it did suit her. She had always been lithe and slim, but this new voluptuous body was a marvel that turned heads in the court. As soon as she was churched, Anne had sent immediately for her language tutors and had already began working on refining her Latin and learning Italian and Welsh. The King was completely devoted to her, and during the times when he took to his bed due to his leg injury, she presided over Privy Council meetings in his stead. As he had predicted, George was indeed made a Duke in his own right in addition to being the heir of their father's dukedom, and her Uncle Howard had been granted a new London house in The Strand. Lady Bryan had written frequently at Anne's behest to let her know how her infant son was faring.

Four months passed, and Prince Richard was still thriving and healthy. Anne went as often as time permitted her to visit her sons at Eltham Palace. She was glad that she would always be able to visit them so easily. Normally, Prince Edward would have had to be sent to Wales, the traditional seat of first-born English princes, to govern his principality as training for kingship. However, two years before, Henry had enacted a new law that essentially annexed Wales into England. Anne was relieved, for she did not entirely relish the idea of sending him to the old castle where Henry's brother Prince Arthur had died of illness. It was the same castle that Henry's mother, Queen Elizabeth's younger brother, Prince Edward, had been living in before he was captured on the road to London by his usurping uncle. Thankfully, Anne's own Prince Edward would serve his apprenticeship in other ways. But now there was another matter she needed to attend to.

Anne was walking in the garden, as she often did on spring afternoons. She walked ahead, arm-in-arm with her mother, and her ladies trailed behind them. Suddenly, and apparently quite unintentionally, her uncle the Duke of Norfolk came upon them from the opposite direction. "Oh!", said Anne, smiling pleasantly, loud enough for her ladies to hear her well. "What a surprise to see you Lord Uncle!". The Duke bowed deeply to her. "Your Majesty", he greeted her. Then dipped a quick, shallow bow to his sister. "And Your Grace, my dear sister". "Shall you walk with us, Your Grace?", Anne asked welcomingly. He inclined his head. "I should like that, Your Majesty". Anne disentangled herself from her mother so that her uncle could have one of them on either arm. "I thought you had been hunting with His Majesty", ventured Elizabeth Boleyn conversationally. "We've just returned", said the Duke easily. "But I like to take a brisk walk around the gardens after being in the saddle". "Well then, Lady Mother", said Anne sweetly, "we must hasten our pace so as to accommodate His Grace". "Indeed, Your Majesty", Elizabeth Boleyn laughed shortly. Anne motioned to her ladies. "Her Grace and I will walk ahead with His Grace of Norfolk". The ladies inclined their heads and fell back as Anne turned to walk with her mother and uncle.

"Well then", said the Duke. "It is such a lovely day, is it not? I pray you are well on such a fine day, Your Majesty". Anne regarded her uncle and his pleasant smile. It was a smile that did not reach his eyes, as per usual. "I am, thank you. Now let us dispense with the niceties. You know what I need taken care of". Her uncle nodded. "Yes. I suspected when I got your note to come upon you as if by chance during your afternoon walk. You certainly went through great lengths for such a simple thing". Anne took in her uncle's cold smile. She did not care much for him, but she knew he could be trusted with the interests of the family. "There is nothing simple about it", said Elizabeth Boleyn in a terse whisper. "Anne is watched day and night. She could never put something like this to paper, or risk someone overhearing her in her rooms. The very walls in palaces have ears. You can never tell who is listening". The Duke shrugged, as if he still felt she had made a fuss over something inconsequential. "You had only to command me to do as we discussed before. I shall go at once to arrange things"

Thomas Howard made to bow and take his leave, but Anne grabbed his arm. "I wanted to meet you so I could give you my instructions". Her uncle looked amused. "Indeed? You have a preference in the method of…execution?". Anne made a face. "Not at all. I'm sure that whatever you devise will be perfectly suitable". "Then I am in anxious suspense over what instructions you could have for me", said the Duke drily. Anne could feel her irritation with the man growing every second. "Just this Uncle; that I do not want anything long and drawn out. It should be quick, and clean". "I would not dream of doing this any other way", said the Duke smoothly, inclining his head. Anne scowled at him. "There is more. I shall require you to provide one of your smaller manor houses, as well as a decent income". Thomas Howard bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. "Is that so? You require me to part with one of my properties, and money from my own treasury. Is there anything else you require of me, dear niece?".

"Thomas, don't", said Elizabeth Boleyn firmly. "You know this is the right way to handle things". _There is no right way to handle this_ , thought Anne miserably, as her mother went on. "You were just complaining to me about that old manor house in Norwich you've been wanting to sell, but no one wanted to buy". "Indeed, I wanted to _**sell**_ it, Bess", replied the Duke in a hiss. "Not give it away for nothing!". "It will not be for nothing", said Elizabeth flatly. "Indeed, it will be a small price to pay". Thomas Howard checked at that, but then he grimaced. "Perhaps it is a small price. In that case, I cannot see how it should fall to a mere Duke, when we have a Marquess and Queen amongst us", he motioned towards Anne. "Surely the wealth in your own privy purse far surpasses my own". "Indeed it does", Anne replied tartly. "And every cent of my privy purse expenses is always subject to scrutiny by the King at any time. I cannot risk any questions arising". The Duke sighed, knowing he was bested. "Very well, very well".

"I am glad we understand each other", said Anne. "And I want your promise that you will be discrete in carrying this out". Her uncle gave her an indignant look. Elizabeth Boleyn stepped in before her brother could rage at his niece. "Now Anne, you know you don't have to warn him of discretion. My brother has survived the danger and intrigue of four reigns, even while married to a Princess of York! You could not possibly manage that without impeccable discretion. He has been discretion itself for all of his life". Anne smirked. "Discretion itself? Is that so? Perhaps I have had you all wrong Uncle. Tell me, shall you put the expenses that I require in your books as a payment to Bess Holland?". Thomas Howard scowled. Elizabeth Holland was his openly flaunted mistress. He and his wife, Elizabeth Stafford, had never been able to stomach one another, and Bess had once been her laundress. Now, his wife stayed at their country estates except for on state occasions, and Bess served in Anne's rooms.

The Duke made his face perfectly still and calm. "Fortunately for me, it matters not what I label my expenses", he replied smoothly. "There is no one to question my spending. I can be trusted to be discrete when it matters. I shall go at once". Anne held out her hand, and he bent to place a cold kiss on it in farewell. Anne stood with her mother watching her uncle leave the gardens to be about this bad business. Anne knew she would spend hours on her knees in prayer before and after the deed was done. But she knew what she ordered had to be done. Edmund Stafford, that handsome, strapping man who had lent her his seed, was now a liability. It was God's will that she had sons to secure the throne of England, and so it had to be God's will that she ensure that no one could ever cast doubt on her the paternity of her sons. She had done what she could to ensure that his widow and family would live comfortably for the rest of their lives in recompense. As Thomas Howard contemplated what he would soon order, he thought idly that much like Edmund Stafford, Mary's husband William Stafford, Baron Hunsdon, must also be a distant relation of his wife's family, the royal Buckingham Staffords.

The next day, Anne was once again taking her afternoon walk in the gardens accompanied by her mother, her cousin Mary Howard Duchess of Richmond, Catherine Brandon Duchess of Suffolk, Nan Parr, who was now married as Anne Herbert Baroness of Cardiff, and her sister-in-law Jane, Duchess of Rochford, when her brother came upon her. He bowed low to Anne and chivalrously kissed his wife's hand before turning back to his Queen. He offered his arm to her and Anne took it. He began to walk at a brisker pace so as to remove them from her ladies' hearing. "So, I have heard Uncle plans to do it tonight", he commented. "Yes", Anne replied shortly. She knew what her brother was talking about. It was unbelievable that once again, the two of them could speak of murdering an innocent as if they were speaking of nothing but the weather. "We both know it had to be done Nan", George reminded her. "It is still a sin", Anne pointed out reasonably. George shrugged. "We have done it for love and for the security of England's succession. God will forgive us, for it was done for a noble cause". Anne was about to respond when she noticed that Jane had come upon them. "I came to ask Your Grace if you would like to go to the bowling green to watch the tournament", she explained. Anne was unsure how much Jane had heard. Her face was quite unreadable. "Yes, Jane. I would like that. We can go now".

The King had decided that he and Anne a handful of chosen courtiers should go visit the Princes at Eltham Palace for a day. Everyone was excited, and Anne was always happy to visit her precious boys. It made her happier that Princess Elizabeth was also in attendance to visit her brothers, as was a recovered Princess Mary. Prince Edward was almost two and had just begun to speak. Prince Richard was still only an infant, but he was rosy cheeked and bonny. "His Highness my dear baby brother has grown so much!", Princess Mary exclaimed. Princess Elizabeth had snuck a small piece of melted marchpane to Prince Edward and the King had laughed boisterously at her barely concealed naughtiness. "Well and good Bessie!", he exclaimed. "I know that you mean to be kind to your brother, but next time perhaps you will ask Prince Edward's governess?". Elizabeth knew better than to reply that she had no intention of ever speaking to Lady Bryan again if she could help it. She felt deeply betrayed by the woman. In the haste that she had made to ready her things and depart for Eltham Palace, Elizabeth had realized that Lady Bryan had wanted to go. She had actually preferred to go to her little brother, and all because he was a Prince, and supposedly more important than her! "Of course, Sire. In future, I will ask, and I thank you for bearing the great love I have for my brother in mind".

Anne, and her brother and sisters went to sit in the nursery with Prince Richard. The wet nurse handed him over to Mary, who bounced him lightly and then nuzzled his face. The baby Prince cooed and giggled. "Oh Anne, he is so beautiful. Every time I see him, I think: what a perfect little boy! And I know it must be nice to have one baby without that flaming red Tudor hair!", she laughed. Anne and George laughed too. Mary handed Prince Richard to George. He cradled him close and rocked him gently. "Hello there, little mite! It's your Uncle George!". Jane eyed George and the Prince almost covetously, and Anne took notice. But she could understand it. Jane yearned for a child as any woman would, and George did not frequent her bed. "Anne", began Mary, "I am so surprised that Mother and father don't feel utter wonder when they visit Prince Richard! He looks just the way George did when he was a babe! He could be his twin". Jane's eyes shot up at that. She glanced quickly at George and then at Anne. George laughed. "Does he?". He looked down at the baby who was beginning to doze off in his arms. "Well why not? He is a true Boleyn-Howard boy!". "For shame, Sir George", Jane reproved. "He is a Tudor". George shook his head. "No, look at him Jane! He is all Boleyn!". Jane nodded silently.

"Forgive me Your Grace", said the wet nurse, returning to Anne. "It is time I put the Prince down to sleep". Anne nodded. "Go and set everything to rights", she commanded. "I'll come and put the Prince to sleep myself". The nurse curtsied and went off to fix the bed linens in the gilded cradle. A few minutes later she came back to lead Anne and her siblings to his sleeping chamber. There was a chair set up next to the cradle along with a few stools. George handed the Prince back to Anne after she took her seat. Anne started to rock him and sing a French lullaby she had learned as a child. George sat next to her on a stool and sang with her. When they finished the wet nurse clapped silently. "Bravo, Your Majesty, Your Grace. That was very beautiful. And see! The Prince has gone right to sleep!". Anne smiled and gently handed her sleeping baby to the wet nurse and she laid him gently in his cradle. "If I may say so, Your Majesty and Your Grace have such lovely voices. They blend so well". Anne inclined her head in thanks and George made an elaborate flourish that made the wet nurse blush a little. Jane's eyes narrowed. Flustered the wet nurse turned to Anne. "With Your Majesty's leave, I will go and see to the Prince's laundry". "Of course", said Anne.

That night, after the court had returned to Whitehall, Mary had requested to see Anne. The King had claimed fatigue, and he was not coming to her bed in any case. When Mary was announced in her privy chamber, Anne beckoned her to her bed chamber. She had been sitting in front of her looking glass, readying for bed. Mary took up Anne's hair brush absentmindedly and began to make long strokes through Anne's long, dark tresses. "What is it Mary? Your lady maid said you seemed distressed". "Do you think that Jane has been acting strange lately?". "Jane Parker?", Anne asked. Mary nodded. "Well, I cannot say that I have ever found her to be wholly normal". Mary smiled briefly, but still seemed anxious. "She said something strange to me today", Mary began slowly. "She asked if I found it odd that Prince Richard favored George so much". Anne arched an eyebrow. Mary shook her head. "I don't know. It was a strange question; do you not think so? I cannot imagine what she could mean by it". Anne felt a small flutter of anxiety in her stomach. She hadn't felt anxiety for so long, it felt unnatural.

"Well, now that I think of it, last year she had behaved strangely on the day when I told you all I was with child". Mary tilted her head inquisitively and held off on the brushing. "What did she do?". Anne shrugged. "After I sent her with you to get a tincture, she came back because she had left the letter she was carrying". Mary nodded. "Yes, I remember that. She said she would come back to me anon, she just had to retrieve it". "Well", said Anne, "when she came back, George and I were laying on my bed talking. He was telling me why he avoids her bed, and while I understand, I told him he will have to do his duty". Mary nodded again. "And what happened?". "She came back, and she said that she was wondering where we had gone. She heard voices in my bedchamber and came to check on me and saw us. But then it was almost as if she fled from my rooms after that". Mary's faced scrunched up with confusion. Anne put her palms up, an utterly French gesture. "I know. I cannot understand it either". "Well, what did George say about why he abstains from her bed?", Mary asked. Anne paused. "It…it was not very nice. He said that she was so vile that he hardly even dared to get her with child for fear the child could inherit her vileness".

Mary whistled. "Well that was quite harsh George!", she murmured. "Is it possible that she might have overheard?". Anne shook her head. "I don't know. I hope not. But I suppose George is right. She is a viper". "She is", Mary agreed easily. "But vipers are dangerous. She will think the two of you have been gossiping about her". Anne sighed. "I'll tell him to do something nice for her again. That should keep her quiet". Mary looked uncertain. "What?", asked Anne almost impatiently. "Well Anne, Jane is not getting any younger. She is a married woman of over ten years with no heirs to show, and her husband is a well-known flirt. Jewels and lavish gowns are no real compensation for a woman who craves sons". "She has been made a Countess and now a Duchess by her marriage to George!", Anne pointed out. "She has a fortune because of him!". Mary shrugged. "What should that mean to her if there is no one to pass on a title and fortune to?". Anne was struck. It was bad when Mary was the one making all the sense. "You're right, Mary. George will have to go to her bed more often and attempt to be enthusiastic".


	9. Chapter 9: Deliberations & Dilemmas

CHAPTER 9: DELIBERATIONS & DILEMMAS

Three years had passed since Prince Richard was born. Anne's daughter, Princess Elizabeth was now seven years old and was already a decorated scholar. She now spoke perfect Latin, Italian, Spanish, and Welsh, and had begun learning German and Greek. Prince Edward was also gifted with a bright intelligence at four and had begun learning Greek with Princess Elizabeth. Prince Richard at three years old, was his brother's shadow. He liked to follow Prince Edward everywhere and would often copy his speech and actions. A lot had changed in those few years and most of it had been tumultuous. In June 1538, just short of six months after Prince Richard's birth, Anne had been indisposed with an illness. During that time, Thomas Cromwell had led Henry into dissolving more monasteries for nothing more than greed. Anne had been terrified when the news came in late December that these actions caused Henry to be excommunicated by the Pope. As a stout Catholic, Princess Mary had visibly paled upon hearing the news. To her, it must've meant that her father's soul would be damned for all eternity when he died. For Anne, it was not so much that she cared for the Pope or the falseness and idolatry of the Roman Catholic religion. It was that in this one stroke, the Pope had released their Catholic subjects in England from their duty to obey their King. It was a terrible end to a year that had already been hard for her, having had lost her mother earlier, in April.

Now, this excommunication ruined several plans. The Holy Roman Emperor had sent a dispatch immediately to England to inform Anne and Henry that unfortunately he could no longer consider the match between his son, Prince Felipe and Princess Mary. His conscience could never allow him to permit a marriage union in which his son's father-in-law was no longer in union with the Holy Church. Mary had been devastated. While Anne had been against the match in any case, she did feel for Mary. She had thought to one day be Queen of Spain, as the mother of her own beloved mother had been. She would live in the palaces her mother had known as a girl and view the portraits of her Spanish forebears in the royal galleries of Spain. And also, Mary was already 22, and the window of her fertile years was closing. Of course, she would have had to wait for another four years to marry the Spanish Prince anyway, because he had only been a child of 11. Although her affection for Mary was always seasoned graciously with calculation, Anne had genuinely felt for her, and had pet her, and told her that the Prince was a child anyway and she would be better off with a fully grown man.

More terrible news came in the beginning of 1539. Emperor Charles and King Francois had entered into a peace agreement. That did not bode well for English interests. England traditionally decided the balance between the great powers of Europe. It was always England that would ally with either Spain or France, as the two countries were inherent enemies. Now, everything was changing. "Sir", Anne had urged, "We must try to ally with France!". She had sat in on the emergency Privy Council meeting that had been called. Many of the councilors were nodding in agreement. "We already know for certain that the Emperor will not ally with us, for he wrote to us only last year to express his refusal to honor the betrothal of Prince Felipe and Princess Mary". "And how would you have us ally with France?", Henry asked, already knowing the answer. "It must be through the marriage of Princess Mary and Prince Charles, Duc de Orleans", Anne replied. "Her Highness would never submit to a French marriage", said one William Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Southampton. "She is too proud of her half Spanish blood". Anne shook her head. "My Lord Southampton, I must remind you that Mary is an English Princess, and she knows her duty is to marry where she is bid. And anyway, I cannot see how she can object to a French marriage by virtue of her Spanish ancestry, when it is the Spanish themselves who threaten us with an alliance to France".

"That may be so", began Thomas Cromwell. "But I beg Your Majesty to consider that we may run into much the same issue in trying to ally with France. France is still a Catholic nation. King Francis will not be eager for such a match". "France is always eager to stir up trouble in Spain", Arthur Plantagenet, Viscount Lisle pointed out. Anne was always struck that, although he was more than sixty years old, she could see the resemblance he had to Henry. After all, he was Henry's illegitimate maternal uncle, and the son of King Edward V, Henry's grandfather. "Mark me, a peace between France and Spain will never hold". The councilors nodded slowly or rubbed their chins in thoughtful silence. Anne was still regarding the old man. It surprised her to no end that Henry even allowed his uncle a place at court, let alone a seat on the Privy Council. After all, even with two strong, healthy, and well accomplished sons, Henry still feared the Plantagenets. Many of them were in exile or locked away. Anne had been horrified almost a year ago when he thought of imprisoning Margaret Pole, the Plantagenet Countess of Salisbury, and Mary's one-time governess.

It was all because her son, Reginald Pole, now a Cardinal, had written that Henry's marriage to Anne was an abomination. Anne had no great love for Margaret Pole. She was the great friend of Katherine of Aragon and had wholeheartedly and publicly disagreed with the King when he decided to annul their unlawful marriage. Anne was sure that the Countess of Salisbury was one of that number that still clung to the idea that Princess Mary was the only legitimate heir to the throne. But, Anne had done everything she could to cousin Margaret Pole, and all of Mary's supporters ever since her son Edward was born. No one spoke out against her, especially since the people were not so 'righteous' as to prefer civil war- which would surely break out if the succession was left unclear- to championing not one, but two princes, even if they felt the marriage morally wrong. The Dowager Princess was dead, Anne had been crowned Queen of England for seven years, and she and Henry had a fruitful marriage of three children- two of them Princes, and even now, one was on the way. There was no point in changing that. Everyone feared a return to the bloody days of the Cousins Wars.

"Perhaps, Lord Lisle", began Anne's uncle, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. "But it would be foolhardy indeed to base our plans on the assumption that the peace between France and Spain would fall apart at some point. We cannot risk what damage might be incurred in the meantime. I am in agreement with Her Majesty the Queen". Anne inclined her head demurely. She knew that her uncle was not supporting her merely for familial affection. His actions were never based on affection. Despite his outward conversion to the Anglican faith, which was becoming more and more reformed, he was heavily Catholic. It was only that he was a man of few scruples. He was not like the martyrs, willing to die to support their faith rather than conform to one they disagreed with. He would always dance to the tune of the King, thus preserving his fortune and titles. A match between the French Catholic Prince, the Duke of Orleans, and the Catholic Princess Mary, could be a center of interest and intrigue for Catholic Englishmen. Next it would be the suggestion of a French Princess for Prince Edward to 'solidify' the alliance with France. All the while, schemes would be hatched to have her trained to press him into a return to Rome. She knew how her uncle worked.

"Thank you, my Lord Norfolk", said Anne indifferently. She turned to Henry. "Your Majesty, if we don't move quickly, I have no doubt that Prince Charles will be betrothed to either the Spanish Infanta Maria, or her cousin Anna, the Archduchess of Austria, within the year". The King nodded and turned to his Lords. "The Queen makes a sound argument. What say you, my Lords?". Thomas Cromwell spoke up. "Her Majesty, wise as she may be, forgets that any lasting Catholic alliance is as ill-disposed as it is unlikely". Anne just noticed the hint of a frown in the corners of her uncle's mouth. Cromwell, was of course, an avid reformer. "They may, at any point act against our interests, and in good conscience", he went on. "They will believe that our God-appointed sovereign is no longer a true King, as defined by the Catholic Church. By their logic, why should they ally with us when they think they can rightfully invade?". Many of the councilors nodded and made general responses of reluctant agreement. "My Lords", said Anne, her imperious tone causing them to become silent, "An alliance with France by the marriage of Princess Mary would be our greatest protection. Need I remind you that the ladies that will surely be put forth to the French Prince are her second cousins. Think you Francois would prefer a match between Catholic brides with Spanish blood, or, a Catholic bride, who is an English Princess, with Spanish blood?".

Henry looked intrigued. "Yes...yes I can see that", he mused out loud. "My Lords", he addressed the Council, "Her Majesty may be right. Francis would gain more from an alliance through a match with his son and Princess Mary, for he would be allying with the cousin of the Holy Roman Emperor, and the daughter of the King of England". "It does sound reasonable", concurred Sir Anthony Browne. "And certainly, it removes the threat of attack from both France and Spain", said Anne's brother-in-law, William Stafford, who was made Earl of Hunsdon two years before. "Aye", said Lord Lisle. "Spain would never attack us while we are allied with France, and they cannot attack France while the Emperor's own cousin is wedded to a French Prince". "My thoughts exactly, my Lord", said Anne. "And France would not dare enter an agreement with Spain while there is even the slightest glimmer of a chance that, should the worst befall the Dauphin, or our own dear Princes, any child born of the union would have a claim to the English throne, which the French covet beyond anything else". This was met by the approval of most of the council. "My Lords", said Thomas Cromwell beseechingly, "I urge you, look beyond the surface. Do you not think it possible that we might only be aiding France to our detriment?". Most of the Lords looked skeptical.

Cromwell turned to the King. "Hear me, Your Majesty. While the Queen might be right, there is also a chance that we could strengthen the bond between France and Spain. Any alliance created with Princess Mary implicates an alliance with Spain. If she is married to a French Prince, Spain will never attack France. I fear I must remind you my Lords, that the Spanish, as well as most Catholic nations believe, incorrectly of course, that Princess Mary is the only legitimate heir to the throne. That being the case, what is to stop France and Spain from allying against us to set their Prince and our Princess Mary on the throne of England? That would bring England back under the control of Rome and Popish heresy, which is all the Spanish care for". Henry looked thoughtful. "Everything could all be to make England a dominion of the Holy Roman Empire", Cromwell added, calculatingly. _Le batard!_ , Anne thought wildly. She knew he added that last piece to move the King to instantly oppose the match. Henry grew red in the face. His temper was out of control these days, although it thankfully did not usually land upon Anne's head.

"Never!", he bellowed. "Charles has ever been a conniving, deceitful Spanish dog!". Anne knew he was thinking of how Charles had thwarted Henry in the past when he tried to put the annulment of his marriage to Katherine to the Pope. Charles had rashly kidnapped the Pope and sacked the city of Rome so as to put fear in his heart, and prevent him from granting the annulment. Henry turned to his wife. "Anne, it was a sound plan, but we cannot risk it!". Anne nodded and kept her peace. There would be time for debate later. She knew better than to push the King at this point. Instead she fixed her attention on Cromwell. "And so, my Lord Privy Seal, what is it that you propose?". She had come to know that he never put out his own ideas until he at least attempted to thwart hers. "I propose that we move away from these Catholic matches". "You would have Princess Mary wed a Protestant then?", she asked, leaving no room for his traditional ambiguousness. "...Perhaps", he answered slowly, glancing quickly at the King to gauge his reaction. "If it were the best possible match for England's needs". Anne ignored his diplomatic answer. "Oh come now. Do not be bashful. Surely, my Lord, you have someone in mind already for Princess Mary. His Majesty and I will hear it".

Cromwell glanced at the King who nodded him to do as he was told. "...It could be advantageous to consider a match between Princess Mary and Wilhelm, Duke of Julich, Cleves, and Berg". A few years before, Anne had suggested a similar match between Mary and the Duke of Bar, the son of the Duke of Lorraine. But the King had left it too late and the Duke of Bar had been betrothed to the Duchess Anna, Duke Wilhelm's sister...although, now that she thought of it, that marriage had not gone ahead, and she was sure she heard the betrothal had been dissolved. "All of Catholic Europe would be against us", said Thomas Howard stoutly. "That is something we cannot risk!". "Your Grace, they are already against us because of...the Papal Bull", Cromwell replied skillfully. He knew that naming the King's excommunication was always a sore point that could cause Henry's anger to flare at whoever mentioned it. "We cannot hope for true allies in Catholics. There is always the threat of betrayal". There was murmuring among the council. "I agree", said Henry finally. "We will send envoys to the Duke after we have drawn up preliminary plans".


	10. Chapter 10: Wandering Eyes

CHAPTER 10: WANDERING EYES

Mary had naturally been dismayed at the prospect of marrying a Protestant Lord, but she told Anne and the King that she was willing to do her duty. Anne's father had not attended the Privy Council meeting due to illness, but he had been eager to take up the chance to journey to Cleves to parlay with Duke Wilhelm. The Duke had been amenable, and the negotiations began. Thomas Boleyn had arrived back in England in early March, claiming he had taken a chill in Germany. A few days later, he had taken to his bed. Two days more, and he had called his lawyers and drawn up his will. By the 12th of March, in that 1539, Thomas Boleyn, Duke of Wiltshire and Earl of Ormond, had died. Anne had never been particularly close to either of her parents, but it did seem strange to have lost them both, in such a short time. And, after a fashion, she had loved them, and they her. The court had gone into mourning for the Peer of the Realm, who was also the Queen's father. George of course, as the only male heir, took on the Dukedom of Wiltshire, as well as the Earldom of Ormond, and his father's place on the Privy Council. Anne had become increasingly prominent on the council, much to the dismay of Thomas Cromwell.

A Queen Consort typically had no role other than a ceremonial one. But Henry depended on her advice. And Anne, unlike other Queen Consorts, was also Marquess of Pembroke, and thus, a Peer of England. In April, she had finally been able to convince Henry to desist with the dissolution of the monasteries. The negotiations for Mary's marriage were proceeding slowly, and Thomas Cromwell found himself often bearing the brunt of Henry's rage. Princess Mary had begun living at court, at Anne's behest. More than ever, she wanted to show her solidarity with Mary in hopes that the Spanish would not launch an attack with the half-Spanish Princess in such high favor. Mary accompanied her into her confinement. On June 17th of 1540, Anne had another boy, who was named Thomas in honor of her late father. However, only a month later, the child weakened and died. Anne had been heartbroken that she should lose a child. Cynically, she thought that it must have been because this babe had actually been the King's. Her last two children were fathered by another, who was now lying in a cold, unmarked grave somewhere, God forgive her.

Henry had taken the news disproportionately hard. He already had two healthy sons and a healthy daughter by Anne as far as he knew. What more could he want? But he had gone and locked himself away in his rooms, claiming illness and leaving her to the business of state, which she often took on in his behalf. Early in the new year of 1541, Jane, her sister-in-law had finally born a child, a boy who was also named Thomas for the same grandfather he would never meet. Anne had received the happy news in a letter dated January 16 from Beaulieu Palace, George's beautiful Essex estate that Jane had removed to for her confinement. When she returned to court, it seemed that Jane was utterly transformed by motherhood. "I can hardly even recognize her", George said to Anne one day as they walked in the gardens. "It's like she's become a different person, truly. I feel as if all the evil was snatched right out of her". "If you had done your duty before, you may have had joy of your wife before now, and a whole quiver of sons!". George laughed. "Mayhap, sister!". When Henry had finally returned to court after his bout of self-pity, he seemed to be distancing himself from Anne. One day she caught him flirting with some of her younger maids-in-waiting. Anne was now 34, and she had a few fine lies on her face, but she covered them so expertly with her creams and powders, that one could never notice unless they were right upon her. Still, she was not as vivacious as she had been when she was newcome to court.

Anne felt alright in this. She was not a silly maid, nor a hopeful virgin looking to make a fine match; she was a married woman, a mother, and a Queen. She was dignified and majestic, even though her fiery temper did manifest itself from time to time. And of course, she always knew how to turn on the coquetry when it suited her. It did still give her a vain thrill to watch the male courtiers eye her with desire when she executed her signature slow, sexy turn of the head, while she laughed her everlastingly charming laugh at a jest. Henry had several favorite flirts, including Anne Basset, the stepdaughter of old Lord Lisle. Increasingly though, another favorite of his was her young cousin Catherine Howard. Catherine was absolutely the silliest, vainest creature at court. Anne liked her well enough; she was amusing at the very least. And she was pretty and high-spirited. Anne had recently given Catherine a place at court at the request of Agnes Tilney, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk- their shared step-grandmother. However, Anne was sure the girl was stupid and ill-mannered. It seemed Catherine shared the bad manners and foolishness of her brother Sir Charles. Twice she had to have their uncle warn him off the Lady Margaret Douglas. And really, Margaret should have learned from her first reckless affair with Anne's young step uncle that the sort of behavior was forbidden, especially now that it had been written into law.

Fortunately for Charles, he had listened to the advice of their Uncle Howard and denied his betrothal to Lady Margaret. Anne had promptly written to her sister-in-law, the Dowager Queen of Scotland to implore her to reprimand her daughter, and command her to desist. Anne had never met Margaret Tudor in person and had expected not to be recognized by her, but surprisingly, the Queen of Scots had always corresponded amicably enough with her on the rare occasions when they wrote to one another. Certainly, she had never shunned her as Mary Tudor -the late Duchess of Suffolk had when she was alive, favoring Katherine of Aragon. Anne suspected that Margaret never forgave her sister-in-law, when back in 1513 at the Battle of Flodden, Katherine had commanded that Margaret's slain husband, King James IV of Scotland, be brought back to England as a trophy, rather than honored and buried as a King in Scotland. And horribly, she sent his bloodstained coat and royal banners to Henry while he was campaigning in France. If she never had a liking for Katherine, or that act destroyed what liking she did have for her, Queen Margaret had no reason to hate Anne. Queen Margaret sent a sound rebuke to her daughter nearly as swiftly as Anne had sent her request, and Lady Margaret recanted and claimed that she and Charles Howard had only been making eyes at one another.

The King, Anne guessed, wanted very much to believe this, and so he pardoned the two of them with a mild punishment. Anne's young cousin Charles had been banished from court, and had gone to stay with their step-grandmother at Lambeth. Lady Margaret had been sent away from court as well to live under the guardianship of Margaret Pole, the Countess of Salisbury, which she had done as a child in Princess Mary's household. Sometimes, Anne wondered why she even bothered to bring her family and put them in coveted places, when clearly, so many of them knew not their boundaries! Of course, Anne herself had pushed boundaries...in fact she had essentially demolished boundaries, and so she could hardly fault them. But really, they could all use a little more sense! Now that she dealt with one cousin, here was his younger sister, at court, behaving as if she were born a dairy maid and not a girl of one of the greatest families in England, strutting about like some strumpet. Anne had complained to her Uncle Howard. "Lord Uncle, I fear I will have to write to my step-grandmother the Dowager Duchess in regards my cousin Catherine, as I fear she has been remiss in her upbringing".

Her uncle flashed his almost reptilian smile. "Why, Your Majesty, I do not know what you mean. Has your cousin offended in some way?". "The girl is a ninny", Anne replied bluntly. Thomas Howard barked a laugh. "I know that you yourself are well learned, but I did not know that you wanted your maids-of-honor to be scholars, Your Grace". Anne smirked. "I do not need them all to be scholars, although I do enjoy intellectual sparring with my ladies. But I do expect to have well-mannered ladies whose heads are not full of wool, Uncle. I think it is reasonable to want my maids-of-honor to have a higher intellectual capacity than that of a kitten". He laughed again. "Your Majesty, my dearest niece, the girl can hurt no one, even if she is not the brightest". "She is also ill-mannered Uncle", Anne complained. "She even curtsies like a Smithfield whore. She already wears her bodice tugged down, and then she dips at just the right angle so we can all see her breasts like newborns on a wet nurse!". "I recall another young maid-of-honor doing much the same in her day", he answered smoothly. Anne gave him a sharp look. "And I recall at whose behest it was that she did such things", she retorted. "Might it be the same person bidding my cousin to perform such antics?". "Your Grace, I do not know what you mean". "Do not play games with me Uncle", Anne snapped, her temper rising. "Do you mean to undermine me using this little nitwit?". "I would never undermine you, Your Majesty", said the Duke seriously. "You are a Howard Queen with two royal Howard sons. I would do nothing to jeopardize that". "Hmm", said Anne suspiciously.

"I merely mean to have her...lighten the King's mood while he is so gloomy. He has been avoiding you". Anne sighed and nodded. "You know that Henry sulks like a child. He'll come 'round soon". "Indeed", her Uncle replied. "But until then, I don't want one of these Neville, Culpepper, or Percy girls catching his eye. We are safest with a Howard girl that I can command doing that". Anne nodded. "Very well then, Uncle". Anne came upon George and Jane walking in the gallery at Hampton Court later in that day. She smiled to see them in rapt conversation. She stood in silence for several moments until, sensing someone, George turned to her. He smiled and bowed deferentially. "Your Majesty". Jane curtsied to her, smiling. "I was just walking through to the gardens", said Anne "I will not intrude". "Oh nonsense Nan!" said George buoyantly. "You could never intrude". The smile on Jane's face faded slightly. In a matter of seconds, Anne was on her brother's arm as he spoke delightedly to her of his plans for renovating one of the estates that had come to him upon their father's death.

 _ **Part II Coming Soon!**_


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